Magic and Man-Made Monsters - The Ancient Man
by Cerasinus
Summary: A mysterious man with unknown motives, and more than one old life, appears in Star City after Sara's soul is restored thanks to John Constantine. Ancient magic is brewing in Star City, and he is somehow linked to it all... Lauriver. Original character. Rating may change.
1. Prologue

_A mysterious man with unknown motives, and more than one old life, appears in Star City after Sara's soul is restored thanks to John Constantine. Ancient magic is brewing in Star City, and he is somehow linked to it all..._

However the last few months had gone, Oliver Queen had hardly expected to end up here, with the love of his life pointing a gun at her unconscious sister.

"You were right, there's _nothing_ left inside her!" She said brokenly, hands shaking as she held the gun.

"Then… Let's get her soul _back_." Oliver said somewhat gently, slowly pushing her hands downwards with his own, so she was no longer aiming at Sara.

"What?" Laurel said in confusion while he pulled out a phone from his pocket, and dialed a number.

"Oliver." A voice answered, and Oliver couldn't help but slightly smile at hearing the voice of his old friend.

"John." He replied.

"It's been a dog's age, mate." John said, with as close as his voice could go to warmth.

"More than." Oliver agreed. "Look, I could use some help with something."

"Course you do." John half-joked.

"How quickly can you get to Star City?"

 _ ***Arrow***_

"So, just to be clear, Oliver…" Diggle muttered as he paced around the 'lounge' area of their new – and much more roomy – base. Oliver sat in a chair nearby, but Laurel was busy, and Thea was still recovering in the hospital. "You have a friend who's a 'master of the dark arts', and will help us get Sara's _soul_ back? Is there anyone you didn't meet on the island?"

"He goes by 'petty dabbler' these days." Oliver shrugged, before growing serious. "But John Constantine is our best option right now."

"Then I guess we are bringing someone's soul back. How will our lives get weirder after this…" Diggle joked. "How long do you think your friend will take, before he gets here?"

"A couple days. In the meantime, we may as well try to keep this city from falling apart." Oliver suggested grimly. "Since Darhk started sending H.I.V.E agents to upset Star City, people are getting desperate. Let's use this time to fight back."

 _ ***Arrow***_

An arrow flew past the night sky, as it pierced into the leg of a fleeing man in a balaclava.

The criminal fell onto the hard concrete of the alley, desperately reaching for his gun. Just as his hand finally got close to the pistol that had fallen from his jacket, another arrow flew into his arm.

He screamed, and his fear increased when he saw The Green Arrow calmly drop from a perch above the alley, landing on his feet nearby.

"Alexei Keith." The infamous vigilante intoned. "You have failed this city."

Before Alexei could even think to say anything, the Green Arrow walked past him, calmly punching the criminal in the face as he passed by.

"Diggle." The vigilante said, having placed a hand on his earpiece. "I got Keith. Where are you with the partner?"

"I'm…" Diggle muttered, pulling a black mask over his face as he stared at the man through the window. "… Making progress."

The former bodyguard pulled out his rifle, attaching the scope and a silencer before placing the gun on the edge of the roof, his hand ready on the trigger. Diggle zoomed in on his target, who was nervously loading a pistol.

In full view via a window.

"Idiot." Diggle scoffed, and he took his shot.

Before Derrick Girvin even knew what was happening, a bullet had shattered his window. As the man went to move away from the broken window, Diggle had reloaded his weapon, replacing the bullets with tranquilizer rounds, and hitting Derrick in the back as he ran.

"I got him." Diggle reported as he dis-assembled his sniper rifle, quickly placing the pieces back into his duffel bag.

"Good." The Green Arrow said as he climbed onto his bike. "Canary, how's the last robber doing?"

"One sec." The Black Canary said hurriedly.

She was in a run-down apartment with a woman aiming a gun at her from across the room. The criminal started firing, and the Canary ran to the couch nearby, sliding behind it. The improvised cover did its job, the bullets not fully penetrating the surface.

When she heard the distinctive sound of a trigger being pulled, but not the sound of bullets firing, she grinned.

The Black Canary rose back up, jumping over the couch and rushing towards the woman. When she got close, the criminal threw a punch, but the Canary ducked, then responded with an uppercut. The criminal snarled and pulled out a switchblade, swinging it at the vigilante.

The Black Canary jumped backwards to avoid the dangerous blade, pulling out her baton and blocking the blade. The woman realized that the switchblade was stuck in the baton, and tried in vain to pull it out, before giving up and running away.

Before she could get far, the Black Canary opened her mouth, and screamed.

The Canary Cry hit the criminal hard, and she fell to her knees, before falling unconscious.

"I got him, Mr. Green." The Black Canary said playfully.

"Are you okay?" The Green Arrow asked in concern.

"Yeah, nothing I couldn't handle." She insisted. "So that's a trio of Museum robbers stopped?"

"Captain Lance will have the evidence by now." Diggle informed.

"So what's next?" She asked.

"That's some more good news." Diggle said.

"For once." The Green Arrow grumbled.

"Our supernatural friend is in town, apparently." The former bodyguard explained.

"Does that mean…" The Black Canary asked carefully.

"Yes." The Green Arrow confirmed. "It's time to bring back your sister's soul."

 _ ***Arrow***_

The group of vigilantes, along with Captain Quentin Lance, waited by the elevator doors. After a moment, a 'ping' could be heard, and John Constantine walked out of the elevator, immediately grabbing Oliver and giving him a manly hug.

"Good to see you again, mate." Constantine said, looking around the new base after the embrace was finished. "Nice place. Much better than the cave."

"The cave?" Thea questioned. She still wasn't completely okay after the attack, but she had insisted that she had to be there when they brought Sara's soul back.

"Where your brother and I hunted down some… _Artifacts_ on the island." Constantine informed casually. "This place is a definite improvement. How do you build a place like this without like, fifty other people knowing your 'secret identity', mate?"

"We have resourceful friends at S.T.A.R Labs." Oliver said evasively.

"… Sure." Constantine said sarcastically. "But now, to business. You have a soul that needs re-acquainting with a body?"

"Yup." Oliver said simply. "I'm no expert on the supernatural, but I assume this doesn't count as a resurrection, or an exorcism?"

"Correct!" Constantine said almost cheerfully. "It is a _restitutionem_ , the restoration of her soul, to her body."

"I assume you have a list?" Oliver asked.

"Apologies mate, I didn't have time to translate this from the original Aramaic." The 'Dabbler of the Dark Arts' said, passing the paper over to Oliver. "You know Oliver, if I knew that you were surrounded by so many attractive friends, I would've come by sooner."

Oliver just sighed and walked away with the list, Laurel going with him to help out. Thea pulled up a chair and sat nearby, and Constantine pulled out some chalk and walked to the sort of 'central computer area' that the new base had.

As he finished making the pentagram, Constantine heard footsteps behind him. He turned around to see Captain Lance.

"Can you really do it?" Quentin asked, not having the patience to beat around the bush. "Can you save my daughter's soul?"

"With a bit of help from you people, yeah." Constantine promised.

"I've already lost her twice before, and my daughters have already lost their brother." Lance said grimly. "I _can't_ lose Sara now."

Constantine walked closer, placing a hand on Quentin's shoulder. "You won't."

"We've got everything from the list!" Oliver announced, him and Laurel each holding cardboard boxes in their arms.

"I still don't get how you can read that list, Ollie." Laurel mentioned as they placed the boxes by the pentagram.

"It's a long story." Oliver said cryptically. "So, similar placings to that man in the cave?"

"Yup." Constantine said, grabbing a bunch of things from the boxes, as did Oliver. The two of them placed strange objects in specific places as the rest of the team watched, with Diggle walking over holding Sara over his shoulder, and placing the woman on the middle of the pentagram.

"Okay." Constantine announced to the others. "I have enough juice to bring myself and two others to the other side, so…"

Thea stepped forward. "I should go. I mean, I'm the whole reason she's like this."

"No offence love, but you're not exactly bringing out the best in Sara right now, are you?" The 'Dabbler of the Dark Arts' pointed out.

"Laurel?" Oliver asked, and his girlfriend nodded.

The couple stepped forward, holding hands.

"Oh, and one more thing…" Constantine muttered. "Whatever's locked Sara's soul away, it's not gonna give it up without a fight. So be ready."

He joined hands with the two, a slightly wicked grin on his face.

"Now, on with the show."

The Dabbler of the Dark Arts began speaking a mystical language, his eyes going strange as he intoned ancient words. Lights began to flicker as the ritual continued, and Sara suddenly began to thrash around, with eyes that were far too white. After a few moments, light surrounded the three, and they were suddenly _somewhere else._

Constantine, being the most experienced in the realm of the mystical, woke up first, followed quickly by Oliver.

"Well, I've had worse hangovers." Constantine said jokingly as he and Oliver stood up, Laurel starting to wake as well.

"This is different to last time." Oliver noted, immediately moving over to help Laurel up as she woke.

"Well, we are dealing with something different." Constantine noted, pulling out a zippo lighter and placing it on the ground. "This restitutionem seems to be… _Customized_ to Miss Sara Lance."

He placed his hand over the lighter, once again muttering in an ancient tongue. The lighter rose into the air, spinning around at an incredible speed, before slowing down and eventually stopping, pointing towards one of the many doors.

The three travellers quickly ran into the room, finding themselves in a place that looked quite similar to the League of Assassin's Lazarus Pit, but everything seemed oddly… Distorted.

The team didn't bother to point that out, instead focused on Sara, who seemed to be drowning in the Lazarus Pit. Oliver and Laurel went to run to her, but two beings that looked like members of the League stood in their way, pulling out swords.

Oliver pulled out his bow and fired twice, hitting both men in the chest. However when they were hit, instead of blood, they bled red light.

Confused, Laurel pulled the mask off one of the men, and her eyes widened when she saw a face with blood-red eyes and stretched skin. Oliver sheathed his bow and grabbed a sword off the being closest to him, and thrusted the weapon deep into the being, before pulling out the sword, and removing the being's head.

Laurel shook off her confusion and screamed, the Canary Cry pushing the being backwards. She moved closer and kicked it in the face, and Oliver gave the finishing blow, slicing the head off in the same way.

The couple ran at Sara, but paused momentarily when they heard saw the new _being_ walk into the room. Constantine wasted no time, and threw a punch that the creature avoided.

"Get to the pit, you need to work together to get her out!" Constantine told Oliver. "I'll take care of our _friend_."

Oliver nodded, and he and Laurel finally got to the pit, where they proceeded to try and pull Sara out. As they did so, Constantine stepped back as another swing of the creature's sword nearly hit him. He looked like he was struggling to fight, but as Oliver and Laurel started to succeed in saving Sara, Constantine splayed out his right hand and pointed it towards the being.

He spoke again in ancient words, and the creature went to strike again with the sword, but found itself suddenly floating slightly in the air. Before it could figure a way out of Constantine's little parlor trick, Constantine grabbed the fallen sword, and stabbed the blade deeply into the creature's chest. As it fell back to the ground, Constantine copied Oliver's move, and decapitated the being.

After a moment, Sara was finally freed from the pit thanks to Oliver and Laurel. A blinding white light suddenly appeared in the room, and suddenly, they were back in the base.

Laurel almost fell to the ground at the feeling of being pulled back to the normal world, as did Oliver, although to a lesser extent. Any comments by Constantine or the other members of the team were interrupted when Sara suddenly woke, sitting up and breathing deeply. Thea gave Oliver a quick hug, as did Quentin to Laurel, before they all quickly knelt down to comfort Sara while Constantine watched, and lit a cigarette.

After many a hug and many hushed words of disbelief and emotion from all, Oliver stood up and joined Constantine in watching from the sidelines.

"Well I'd mark that as one of our greater moments, Oliver." Constantine said dryly, and Oliver let out a slight chuckle.

"Better than what happened in Russia, anyway." Oliver muttered, and they both nodded.

"I sensed something _dangerous_ when I arrived here. Know anything about that?" The Dabbler of the Dark Arts questioned, and Oliver nodded.

"Damien Darhk." He said simply. "I assume you've heard of him. Any advice?"

"Oh, mate…" Constantine muttered darkly. "Not only does Darhk have extremely dangerous magic, but I hear that he was part of that League that you had some trouble with last year."

"Yeah. He was going to be Ra's Al Ghul, once." Oliver said grimly.

Constantine put a hand on Oliver's shoulder, before he sighed and pulled his friend in for a hug. "Oliver, mate. You have your work cut out for you."

"I know. I could use your advice, in times like these." Oliver pointed out.

Constantine sighed. "Look, I'll… Stick around, at least for a little bit, okay? I… _Guess_ I owe you that much."

"John, we are partners." Oliver reminded him as they walked to a more secluded spot in the base. "We don't _owe_ each other anything."

"I _guess_ …" The Dabbler of the Dark Arts said almost reluctantly, and he sighed again. "Fine, I'll stick around, _for now_."

"Thank you." Oliver said sincerely, and they reached the elevator, Constantine walking into it.

"One last thing, mate." Constantine said quickly. "That light in the other side… It was _different_. There's something else going on…"

With that cryptic warning, Constantine left the base as the elevator doors closed. Oliver sighed.

"Great, something _else_ to deal with…"

 _ ***Arrow***_

Above the streets and the cars, a man in black robes watched from a rooftop.

He wore an improvised mask, of sorts. It was a black cloth that wrapped across his face, with a gap where his eyes would be. He wore simple black robes, but one could see a chest-plate painted black over the robes, that was mostly covered by the cloth that fell from his mask.

His hands had metal gauntlets that were also black, along with black metal boots. Every piece of armour was at least slightly covered by bits of black cloth from his mask, or the rest of his clothing.

He pulled the gauntlet off his right hand, revealing a scarred hand with strange tattoos. He stared at the central tattoo on the back of his hand, the black still swirling around the outside of the circular marking.

His shoulders dropped slightly, and he placed the gauntlet back on his hand. He pulled the ancient curved blade from his back, and examined it for a moment, swinging at the air quickly, and nodding in satisfaction. He sheathed the blade again, and his shoulders raised once more.

He walked to the very edge of the rooftop, and dropped off the side calmly. But no corpse would be found at the bottom of that drop…

He had a mission now.

After a long time, he had a reason to go forth once more.

Magic had arrived in Star City, in a _significant_ way.

He had one lead.

The Green Arrow.

Yes, the vigilante was his key to the truth…

 **A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter. This is my first story published on this website, so please do leave reviews. This is obviously set in Season 4, although several events over the last three season beforehand have changed slightly. For instance, Laurel has a proper canary cry, Diggle is still a vigilante but doesn't have that helmet, John Constantine and Oliver have a longer history then just one episode, and Felicity is no longer part of the team. These events will be explained later on.**

 **Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this, please leave reviews, and the next chapter will be up soon.**


	2. Killings and Shattered Memories

_Chapter One: Killings and Shattered Memories_

Sara Lance tried her best to keep her emotions in check as she talked to her mother.

"I know, I know." She insisted to her mother. "I love you too mom. I love you so much."

With that, Sara sighed and hung up, lying back down on the couch.

"How'd that go?" Her father asked as he brought two cups over for his daughters, and placed them on the table.

"Easier than the last time mom found out I wasn't dead." Sara said dryly.

Quentin went to say something, but his phone suddenly rung. He apologised to his daughters, answering the phone while he walked into a different room.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Laurel asked her sister, sitting down next to her.

"Yeah." She said, but even to herself it sounded a little weak. "It's just that mom told me this story of how I got lost when I was walking home from school one day, and promised to always come back…"

"But I can't remember." She confessed.

"You are probably better off not remembering all the messed-up things our parents did to us anyway." Laurel said dryly, and they shared a laugh. They spent several minutes just sitting there and embracing, many an emotion in the air as the Lance sister reunited. But after a moment, Laurel's phone buzzed, and she sighed.

"Being the Canary is a tough job, huh?" Sara cracked, and Laurel just gave her sister a slightly sly smile.

"It's the _Black Canary_ , and yes." She looked at the text, and sighed. "Looks like I have to go."

"Is my 'Canary Cry' device doing well?" Sara asked.

Laurel smiled. "I actually don't need it anymore."

"What? Why not?" Her sister questioned in confusion.

Laurel smiled.

 _She screamed as the strange energy hit her, and she could swear a window shattered in front of her._

 _She was fighting Brick, and she screamed out in desperation, and somehow that scream pushed him back._

"To quote my boyfriend, that's a _long story_." Laurel muttered. "Gotta go."

Sara stayed on her spot on the couch, waving goodbye at her sister as she left. She spent a while just resting and breathing it all in, suddenly being back in the land of the living, before she went to grab another drink.

But when she opened a cabinet in the kitchen, Sara spotted a photo lying nearby the stove. She forgot about grabbing whatever she wanted from the kitchen, and walked quickly to that photo.

A tear dropped down from her face when she looked at the photo.

It was her, Laurel, her mother and her father, and… _Him_.

" _Sara, you have to take care of your little brother!"_

" _Laurel, you might be the 'responsible' sibling, but at least he has actual_ fun _with me."_

More tears appeared, and before she knew it, Sara had dropped the photo from her hands and ran out of the door.

Quentin Lance walked back to the lounge area, apology already ready on his lips.

"Sorry girls, but I have to get to…" He trailed off when he realized that both his daughters were gone, and let out an affectionate sigh. But as he walked to the door, his boot crunched on something.

He looked downwards to see a photo in a frame, with bits of broken glass around it. He reached down and grabbed it, sighing again when he realized what photo it was.

"Oh, Sara…"

 _ ***Arrow***_

Arlina Dalla was just an ordinary person, living in the glades, trying desperately to make a living in a very unforgiving city. So, when three big guys surrounded her in an alley, she felt exasperated more than anything else.

"Give us your wallet, and your jewellery." The biggest guy demanded, pulling out a switchblade and pointing it towards Arlina threateningly.

The woman sighed, and un-zipped her bag, reaching in to grab her wallet.

"Actually, she won't be giving you anything." A female voice said calmly, and the three thugs and their victim looked over to see a woman in a black corset and domino mask calmly walking towards them.

"Leave us alone, _bitch_." One of the guys snarled, pulling out similar-looking switchblade and readying the blade. In the Glades, if you couldn't afford or steal a gun, switchblades were the next best thing. They were concealable, and the right stab could kill an average person easily.

But Sara Lance was no ordinary person.

The thug went for a stab, but his aim was predictably terrible, and Sara simply stepped to the side, causing the guy to lunge at nothing. As the guy started to fall to the ground, Sara calmly grabbed the guy's dominant arm, and dislocated it loudly. The guy screamed out as he fell to the ground, and Sara grabbed his switchblade, stabbing him in the shoulder and leaving the blade stuck in the man's arm.

"I _really_ don't like that word." Sara growled.

The other two were pissed off now, and roared loudly as they ran at her. One held a baseball bat, and the other was the biggest guy (with the other switchblade). Sara merely waited peacefully as they ran at her.

The first one to arrive was the guy with the baseball bat, and predictably swung for the head. Sara ducked, then grabbed the bat after it hit nothing. She pulled it out of the man's hands, casually breaking it in two with her knee, before kicking the same guy between the legs as he went to throw a punch. The guy let out a rather pathetic squeal as he fell to the ground.

The last man tried a little harder, feinting a slashing move while trying to punch Sara in the chest. However, Sara knew far too much about combat to fall for such a simple move. She grabbed the man by the free hand, ruthlessly pressing down on the guy's knuckles, before grabbing three of his fingers, and breaking them.

The thug screamed in pain and fell to his knees, but Sara decided to _really_ make him regret trying to steal from someone, and punched him across the face so hard he was knocked out. Sara looked down at the three severely injured men, and smiled slightly.

No matter what 'street experience' you may or may not have, a pissed off, ex-League of Assassins, recently resurrected Sara Lance was a force to be reckoned with.

Arlina didn't stick around to admire Sara or anything, instead giving a simple but grateful 'thank you' and going on her way. The Lance sister chuckled a little at the cynical nature of the Glades, before walking off.

As she walked down the dangerous streets of the Glades, her phone rung. Seeing who it was, she answered.

"Yeah, Ollie?"

"I need some back-up. Laurel is investigating a murder, and Dig is on patrol with Thea." He said without a greeting, but Sara understood. It was a busy life, being one of a very small group of people that still fought for change and justice. "Can you back me up?"

Sara considered it for a moment. "Sure, Ollie. It'll be just like old times."

 _ ***Arrow***_

He walked calmly from rooftop to rooftop, sparing a glance to the streets of Star City as he traversed. He had run into some… Unsavoury locals, but they were no longer a problem. From what he had researched, the Star City vigilante had once been quite like him, but for some inexplicable reason, had softened over the last few years. Someone like that was either a special kind of fool, or was being haunted by something.

He knew that the vigilante wasn't the former, so therefore, the latter it was.

But first he needed more information. He needed to know this vigilante's _motives_ , who was _close_ to him, who he _despised_.

He sighed again, and knelt at the edge of the roof, watching the cars speed past each other.

Suddenly, his right hand burned, and he hissed slightly, pulling off his gauntlet again to stare at the ancient tattoo on his scarred hand. He stared at the back of his hand, before nodding, and placing the gauntlet back on as he went to jump over to another building.

 _ ***Arrow***_

The Green Arrow and the Canary worked together as well as they did a couple years ago, and they stood on the top of a building as Green Arrow opened a glass hatch.

"So we're looking for a _'Quantum Manifold_ '." Sara said dryly. "Look, I'm smarter than people think, but this stuff goes over my head."

"I know the feeling." Oliver said, wrenching the hatch open, then grabbing a specific arrow from his quiver. "But we need it to save a friend."

He fired the arrow, and a line now connected the roof and the floor. Sara shrugged, and latched onto Oliver tightly as they zip-lined downwards, and landed quietly on the ground floor.

They snuck into a nearby room, and Sara went to grab the object that they needed, but Oliver put a hand in front of her, warning her to stop. Sara picked up on what Oliver was seeing, a very thin wire that connected to a fuse box nearby. Clearly some kind of internal security system.

Green Arrow pulled out another arrow and fired, the fuse box letting out a couple sparks before dying completely. Satisfied, he nodded to Sara, and she grabbed the Quantum Manifold.

No alarms went off, but when they went to walk out, several men dressed in green and black combat gear were waiting for them, with guns ready.

"Ghosts!" Green Arrow growled. Sara tensed up as well, her collapsible bo-staff ready. She had heard about these adversaries.

Without warning, the Ghosts raised their rifles and fired. Sara ran to the side, upturning a table and using it as cover. Green Arrow leapt to the same place, but fired an arrow at the feet of several Ghosts, and an explosion went off, pulling several Ghosts out of action.

Sara pulled out three throwing knives from her sleeve, and slid to the side, the knives hitting the chests of the three nearest ghosts. This left four soldiers still fighting, but Oliver changed that quickly.

As they aimed guns at Sara, Oliver jumped over the table, and ran straight for them. When he got close, he turned his run into a slide, and fried two arrows at the same time, hitting two Ghosts in the chest. The last two soldiers went to hit Oliver with their guns, but Sara had already gotten close enough to hit both men across the head with her bo-staff.

Sara gave Oliver a hand and pulled him up, and the old vigilante duo couldn't help but grin slightly as they walked away.

 _ ***Arrow***_

"So, we got _another_ vigilante then…" Captain Quentin Lance said dryly as he examined the crime scene.

He and several detectives, along with the usual cops maintaining the scene, were standing in the third floor of one of Star City's many abandoned warehouses. And 'abandoned' was really the word. The rooms were mostly empty, with only a few fires in barrels and the occasional homeless person keeping the place from being totally empty.

But what _really_ decorated the place was the five dead men splattered across a small area.

There was one with a deep cut on his neck, who had bled out next to a wooden crate. On the floor near him was his friend, who had been cut open and left to die. Parallel to those two was a man with several stabbing wounds on his chest, who was slumped by the wall.

Finally, there were the last two, the first of which was lying face-down on the cold floor, with three crossbow bolts stuck in his back. The last man was arguably the most _memorable_. He was pinned to a large wooden crate by a piece of a wood, which seemingly had been pulled from the floor, and thrusted into the victim's chest…

"Maybe." Detective Hilton – Quentin's old friend and old partner – muttered, looking over at the bodies. "You think it could be those people from last year?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Quentin replied uneasily. "Any witnesses?"

"Only people here are a few homeless, and some rats." Hilton informed.

"Question them anyway." Quentin instructed with a sigh, and Hilton nodded, and walked off.

The captain of the SCPD spent several minutes examining the scene, before he noticed the figure hiding in a shadowy corner. Once he looked around and confirmed that no-one else was around, he spoke.

"You can come out now."

The figure walked into to the light, revealing Laurel in her Black Canary outfit. "Hey, dad."

"What took you so long?" Her father half-joked.

"There have been two other crime scenes like this one across the city." She explained. "Someone has only arrived in Star City recently…"

"And they are sure making an impression…" Quentin muttered. "You think this is the League?"

Laurel paused for a moment, eyes glancing over at the bodies. "It could be, but I don't see why they would do this. I'll ask Ollie later…"

"Okay." Quentin sighed. "Speaking of Oliver, how are the two of you… Going?"

Laurel let out a light chuckle. "Are you going to lecture me about dating Oliver _again_?"

Quentin laughed. "A couple years ago, yeah. But Oliver fights for this city, harder than the _police_ do. After he stopped the League last year, and the Siege the year before…"

"And he tried to stop the Undertaking the year before…" His daughter added.

Quentin smiled slightly. "Yeah. After that, I don't really think I can disapprove anymore."

Laurel's grin grew wider. She walked closer, and hugged Quentin tightly.

"Thanks dad." She said, before ending the hug. "I gotta go."

She walked back into the shadows, and Quentin chuckled.

"I'm never gonna get used to my Laurel being a vigilante…"

 _ ***Arrow***_

Oliver and Sara arrived at the Lair via the elevator, to see Diggle and Thea already waiting for them.

"We've got the last piece for the uh… _Un-shrink gun_." Sara said sarcastically.

"Good, but…" Thea started.

"We've got a problem." Diggle said. "While you guys were away, the decryption program on Ray's message finally completed."

He sighed.

"Oliver, Darhk's got Ray."

Oliver rubbed his face with his hand, placing his bow on a table while sighing.

"Well this complicates our plan…"

 _ ***Arrow***_

He stood in the shadows, watching as the female vigilante with the domino mask talked to the police captain.

He had deduced that the vigilantes must have had an insider in the SCPD to function as efficiently as they did, but he confessed he did not predict to see the captain and the female vigilante _hugging_.

So, the connection was more _personal_ …

He pulled off his gauntlet yet again, staring at the ancient and mystical tattoo on his hand. The inky blot was still swirling, and after a moment, the tattoo solidified into a new shape.

So, _that_ was his next move…

 **A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the second chapter, I personally felt that some of it was a little filler, so I tried to add some interesting stuff in those moments. So, please leave a review, feedback is always great, and the next chapter will be up soon.**


	3. Rescues and Hard Truths

_Chapter Two: Rescues and Hard Truths_

"So, _that's_ the best plan we have? Really?" Thea questioned as she sat on a chair in the lounge of the lair, as her and the rest of the team examined the drawing board that they had all added to, and thus had created a plan to free Ray Palmer.

"'Fraid so, Speedy." Oliver sighed, moving over to a wall and standing by it. "Based on what Quentin said he saw when he met with Darhk, this rescue can only succeed… Like this."

"Damn." His sister muttered. "And I thought I told you guys to call me 'Red Arrow'."

"Too late."

"Well, if we're gonna do this, we gotta do it _tonight_." Diggle pointed out as he loaded a pistol in his hands, before placing it back on the gun rack.

"Then I guess we should run through it again." Laurel suggested, and the team nodded. "Ollie?"

"Okay…" Oliver began again, walking back to the board and pointing at a list of names that were in two categories. "The first thing to run through is the teams. We have the main team, and the backup. Diggle, Laurel and I will be the first to infiltrate. The backup team is…"

 _ ***Arrow***_

"Is everyone in place?" Green Arrow asked as he stared at the skyscraper, from his perch on a lower building nearby.

"Roger that."

"I'm here, Ollie."

"You got it, mate."

"I'm ready to kick some ass."

"Why couldn't we bring in the tech guy from Palmer Industries?"

He sighed. "Speedy, that 'tech guy' has zero field experience, and I'd rather not give him more hints about my identity."

"… Fine."

"Is the… _Weapon_ ready?" The Green Arrow asked.

"Yeah, I got the Shrink-Ray in my bag." Diggle's voice replied in semi-disbelief.

"Okay." The vigilante muttered. "Time to get to work."

He raised his bow, pulling a special arrow back, and firing directly into a window. The arrow did its job, smashing right through the glass and attaching to the ground.

"The alarms are going off like crazy." Laurel reported from her spot, close by the building, in the street right next to it as a matter of fact.

"Good." The Green Arrow said, zip-lining down towards the smashed window, and landing softly. He was only there for a moment before a bunch of Ghosts charge into the room with guns raised.

Before they could fire, several shots went out, and suddenly all of them had bullets to the kneecaps.

"I got 'em." Diggle reported. "Darhk should be along soon…"

"Black Canary." The male vigilante said as he waited.

"Yeah?"

"Now."

"Got it."

The Black Canary calmly speed-walked into the main entrance to the skyscraper, gaining the attention of the guards on that floor. They all went for their guns, but she opened her mouth and let out a scream.

The Canary Cry hit the guards hard, causing one by the desk to fly backwards into the wall, several to follow the same method of incapacitation, and the others to fall to their knees, crying out as their eardrums felt like they were bursting.

A guard ran up to the Black Canary from a staircase, but the last thing that man saw before unconsciousness was a fist headed to his face.

"You weren't kidding about that cry, sis." Sara said and Laurel grinned, motioning for her sister to come with her through the door by the reception desk.

"Well, well, well…" Daimen Darhk said to the Green Arrow as he strutted into the room. "How _did_ you find this place?"

"Long story." The Green Arrow retorted in his distorted voice – courtesy of his voice modulator. "I'm not here for you. Not tonight."

"Oh, you're here for _Mr. Palmer_." Darhk deduced. "Well then. I best tell my friends to _eliminate_ him."

"You won't get the chance." The vigilante informed.

"Oh?" Darhk said, reaching in and pulling out his phone. "And why is that?"

"Learn to look behind 'ya, mate." A new – but familiar – voice said, and Damian Darhk look behind him to see John Constantine standing there with a hand outstretched.

Before he could do anything, a supernatural force pushed Darhk out of the room via the broken window.

"That won't hold him back for long." Constantine warned, and Green Arrow nodded. They walked quickly out of the room. The old partners ran up a staircase quickly, and Green Arrow's coms suddenly went online again.

"Arrow, we've got new friends." Diggle's voice warned. "I can't get them all."

"Okay. Black Canary, you're about to get some armed people headed your way. Everyone but Dig, back her up."

"Okay."

Constantine and the Green Arrow reached the top of the staircase, but before he went through the door, he suddenly paused, and moved close to the door, activating his coms and speaking quietly.

"Be careful, Laurel." He whispered.

"I will, Ollie." She whispered back.

Green Arrow nodded to himself, kicking the door open and firing an arrow at the Ghost nearby, hitting him in the shoulder. Three more ran in, and Constantine outstretched his hand again, forcing two of the Ghosts to be slammed into a wall nearby.

The duo continued walking, Green Arrow casually throwing a tranquilizer flechette at the last Ghost as they passed him.

"We've reached the target." The male vigilante reported, and he broke the closest window with his fist, firing another line-arrow at the building that was slightly higher than the one they were in.

"Sending the gear now." Diggle reported, and a second later, a black duffel bag slid down the line, Green Arrow catching it as it arrived.

He walked over to the see-through – and very small – prison that his friend was imprisoned in, and without a word, grabbed the high-tech gun and a small cubic device out of the bag, finally pulling out a cable, plugging it into the bottom of Ray's prison, and then to the device, and finally the 'gun'.

Green Arrow held down the trigger and the gun charged up, and after a moment he fired.

The cube broke and Ray enlarged from his tiny size, suddenly his normal shape and size once more.

Ray smirked. "I'm not dead."

"No you're not." Green Arrow said, smashing yet another window, and firing yet another line-arrow, this time at a much lower building. "It's good to see you again, but we need to get you out of here. Hold on tight."

"It's good to see you too." Ray said, before his speech turned into a slight yell as he zip-lined down to the lower building, fast.

"I'll see ya' later, mate." Constantine said, before walking back to the staircase.

Green arrow followed, and smirked slightly when he saw no sign of his old partner in the staircase.

"Show-off…" He muttered, then activating his coms again. "How's the ground floor?"

"Busy." Was Sara's typical slightly sarcastic response as Green Arrow traversed down the stairs again.

"Guy, we got more Ghosts coming in. Maybe too many…" Diggle informed, taking out two more Ghosts with bullets to the legs as he spoke.

Green Arrow ran into the reception room, to see an intense fight taking place. His team were facing a lot of adversaries, but with their good training, his team was doing well.

He ran immediately into the centre of the fray, joining his girlfriend as they fought hard, ducking, kicking and punching as they quickly took out many Ghosts.

Sara was punching the hell out of a Ghost when she looked over, and saw a bunch of Ghosts and security guards headed towards Speedy.

"Get her!" One yelled as they ran.

"But she's just a kid!" The other protested.

The first one immediately pulled out a pistol and shot the second, but Sara was in a totally different place for a moment…

Her eyes closed for a moment, memories repeating hauntingly in her head.

" _He's just a kid!"_

She opened her eyes and growled.

She ran at the guard, sweeping him off his feet with her legs as she reached him, before wrapping her hands around his throat, putting him in a dangerous headlock

" _He's just a kid!"_

That memory played again, and she snapped the man's neck with a loud _crack_.

Laurel heard the sound, and looked over to see her sister next to a dead body. She ran for her sister, letting out a scream to the Ghosts about to shoot her as she rushed over to Sara.

"Sara?" She whispered as she got close.

"Where is he?" Her sister replied wearily.

"Where's _who_?" Laurel asked, but their conversation was interrupted as the coms activated again, and her boyfriend's voice could be heard.

"Let's get out of here!" He yelled, and the team obeyed, rushing out of the skyscraper.

 _ ***Arrow***_

"Sara…" Laurel begun uneasily as she, her sister and Thea sat in Laurel's apartment. "What happened out there?"

Sara was shaking slightly when she sat next to her sister on the couch, while Thea sat on a comfortable chair nearby.

"I… I _remembered_." Sara said brokenly. "I remembered _him_."

"What do you mean, you _remember him_?" Thea asked in confusion.

"My memories are _shattered_." Sara said, a tear starting to fall down her face. "The Pit maybe. But I am starting to remember things, Laurel. Things about our brother. Where is he?"

"Sara…" Laurel said emotionally, hugging her sister tightly. "He died. He died, four years ago."

Sara went to say something, but instead fell apart. Her solitary tear was joined by many more, and Thea went over to hug the emotional Lance sister.

After many an emotional moment, Sara rubbed the tears off her face and stood up, walking to the kitchen area and picking up the picture with the broken glass, staring at it intently.

"I have to go." She announced sadly. "I can't just kill people because I remember my brother. I have to leave."

"Where would you go?" Thea asked in sadness.

"Central City maybe. I could visit mom." Sara said, but Laurel stood up and shook her head.

"No." She said firmly. If you need help, we can help you. I can't lose you _again_."

"What, one of you is an _expert_ in the supernatural?!" Laurel's sister said sarcastically.

"… Yes, actually."

Sara paused.

"… What?"

"John Constantine. He helped us bring back your soul. Ollie knew him during his five years away." Laurel explained briefly, a smile forming on her face. "If anyone could help you, he could."

"He'd be better than my _father_ , anyway." Thea muttered somewhat bitterly.

Sara took a breath. "Okay, fine. I'll stay." At her sister's smile, she raised a dramatic finger. " _For now_."

"Okay." Laurel muttered, pulling out her phone and accessing the speed-dial, pressing on a specific one and placing the phone by her ear. "Hey Constantine, this is Laurel. Yeah, Oliver's girlfriend."

The other two people in the room couldn't hear the other person on the call, but they did see Laurel sigh loudly.

"Look, I didn't call for you to fail at trying to flirt with me. I'm calling because two people I know and care about are suffering from some kind of _bloodlust_. Can you help?"

She nodded to herself, smile growing slightly.

"Good. I'll put my sister on the phone."

Laurel passed the phone to her sister, and Sara walked into a different room for a more private conversation. Laurel let out a slight sigh of relief, sitting back down on the couch.

"At least we can try to fix some things…"

 _ ***Arrow***_

He watched from his perch above the apartment, high up above on a different roof. He grabbed a small stone from a pocket, unsheathing his blade from his back, and sharpening his blade with the stone.

The Green Arrow and his cohorts were quite skilled, skilled enough to be almost impossible to track. However, as well-trained as a team might be, they all had a weakest link. Team Arrow's weakest link was the youngest member, referred to as 'Speedy' in the field, which matched the vigilante's patterns of codenames.

This young girl had training, but lacked the experience of the rest of the team. Therefore, she might have known basic counter-surveillance tactics – similar to the Leagues, but with less discipline – but she had not yet learnt the elegance and finesse that was required to shake off a truly experienced being like himself.

So here he was, watching the three women in the apartment discussing things, serious things, by the look of their expressions. As the League-trained woman walked to a different room, he saw the perfect opportunity.

He needed to learn the truth of what was happening in this city, but he did _not_ need the disadvantage of others knowing his motives. Therefore, it was wise to remain _unpredictable_.

He grabbed his grappling hook, swinging it with his hand quickly, before throwing it towards the lower building. The hook slipped down the roof, before settling in the eave of the roof. He pulled at the rope for a moment, testing its strength, before he was satisfied.

He ran at the edge of the roof, jumping off the building fearlessly, and swinging towards the apartment.

He dove in, rolling upon entry and pulling out his blade as the two girls in the lounge were taken entirely by surprise.

He observed the stance and nearby weaponry of the two adversaries…

And then he made his move.

 **A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, the last part was the most interesting part to write for me. I tried to make the Ray Palmer rescue exciting, and also tried to add a little bit of comedy, but only when I felt it fit the tone and didn't clash with anything.**

 **I would like to thank everyone who has liked and followed this story so far, and the reviews have been greatly appreciated. A personal thank you to "Stand with Ward and Queen" and "LycoX" is in order. Thanks guys, I'm a huge fan of your fics.**

 **Please follow and leave reviews, and the next chapter will be uploaded soon.**

HeHe


	4. Intruders and Assassins

_Intruders and Assassins_

He wasn't usually one for theatrically, as much as his rather dead enemies might disagree, but nevertheless, he did land in the apartment and unsheathe his sword with a certain _flourish_ , as it were.

He landed on the floor with a roll, shards of glass surrounding his entrance. The youngest one and the other person sitting in the lounge were quick to react, hiding their shock while grabbing weaponry.

One held a baton (hidden behind a chair), and the other had clearly left her equipment somewhere else. The older of the two was about to speak – perhaps a threat, perhaps a demand, perhaps a suggestion of peace – but he didn't stay still long enough to listen.

He started with a simple punch to the younger one, his movements quick as he moved towards her. She ducked under his blow, landing an uppercut on his chin. He paid the pain no mind, responding to the attack with one of his own, using his free hand to deliver a punch to her exposed throat as she tried to regain her footing. Her uppercut was effective, but perhaps not worth the loss of footing that came with it.

The punch took her out of action (at least for the moment), and he moved to fight the other one, who struck quickly with her baton, aiming for his chest and head. He raised his blade, blocking several attacks from her baton. She tried to increase the strength of her blows to lower his grip, but to no avail.

He felt someone grab his foot as the older one moved her attacks to his legs at the same time. He looked over to see the younger one, who had clearly gotten back into the action. He grabbed a nearby glass, and threw it at the younger one's head…

…While at the same time, slashing at the older one with his sword, causing her attack to cease as she dodged back. The younger one growled at the glass as it collided with her head, and he punched her again, putting her out of the action once more.

But as he turned to the older one, a door to a different room was kicked open to reveal the League-trained woman. He turned his gaze to the newer arrival as she got close.

That distraction cost him.

The other opened her mouth, and _screamed_.

Suddenly, he was pushed back directly into the wall, the area around him shattering as the strange scream continued. He felt his arms almost pinned to the wall as bricks fell from the wall, and he dropped his blade.

With great effort, he moved his left hand in a forwardly direction, and the small crossbow mounted on it and hidden by his sleeve did its job, firing a bolt.

The bolt was pushed back by the scream as well, but it still landed close enough to the one that was screaming for her to lose focus for a _second_ , her scream weakening while she was distracted. He fired another bolt, and it hit her in the right leg.

He recovered finally from the strange power, but the League-trained woman suddenly let out a dangerous growl, and ran at him.

She pulled out a knife from her sleeve, diving for him.

He outstretched his right hand towards his sword, and a supernatural force brought the blade to his hand. As the League one got close with her dive, he flipped the sword so he held the blade instead the hilt, and thrusted the hilt towards her.

The hilt collided with her head, and her attack was cut off pre-maturely, causing her to fall. He added a kick for good measure, to make sure she was out of the action, at least for now.

He walked past the unconscious one, and towards the one with the strange scream. Despite her injury, she was ready to fight once more. She lunged forward with another baton, but he side-stepped her, making her dive at nothing, and fall onto the ground.

He walked over and they traded blows, and after several intense moments he was victorious, pushing the baton from her hand and grabbing her by the shoulders, calmly throwing her at the nearest wall. He didn't say anything as she crumpled to the ground, but inwardly he found that he _respected_ these new opponents.

They fought hard, but the youngest had too much fire, and not enough discipline. The League-trained one was _extremely_ dangerous, but had some clear anger problems to work out. And the one with the strange cry fought very well, but needed to improve on some things. The solution to most of these problems was simple. Experience. They just needed to learn through fighting, and as they did, they would become more and more formidable.

Assuming they survived that long, of course.

He spared a glance from his masked face at his adversaries. The League-trained one was still on the ground, not starting to wake just yet, but it wouldn't be long…

The one with the strange scream was unconscious by the shattered wall. And the youngest one….

He walked over to where he had left the third opponent.

She wasn't there.

He removed his right gauntlet, moving his scarred and mystically marked hand across the room. His inky black tattoos turned red – almost like they were burning – as he moved his hand. A red mist fell from where his hand moved, and fell slowly to the ground like dust. Almost nodding to himself, he placed the gauntlet on again, and gripped his sword tightly as it returned to his hand once more.

He kicked down the door to the hallway, looking at the two paths the hall allowed before moving. There were some small droplets of blood leading further down, and he followed.

They led to a staircase, and he noticed a phone left lying on the floor. He picked it up, examining it closely.

Recently ended call.

" _Ollie"_

He causally crushed the phone with his left hand as he descended the staircase. The blood trail ended further downwards, right by the lobby area of the building.

Almost sighing to himself, he walked into the lobby. He stayed in the shadow of a nearby corner, looking intently at the very few people in the room.

There was a tired-looking security guard by the entrance, and another by the reception desk. According to his surveillance, this building was a sort of rent and/or long-term rent hotel. Clearly the owners of the room didn't intend to stay long, the room may have memorabilia and photos, but the place was far too clean and cared for to be a proper home.

The only other people in the reception room were…

A couple, sitting in the seats, perhaps waiting for the reception person to be done talking to an irate-looking man who was growling almost incoherently about his room.

A teenager standing on his own by the door, looking at his phone.

And finally, a young woman sitting nearby to the security guard, currently keeping her head low.

Found her.

 _ ***Arrow***_

Oliver Queen pressed down on the accelerator of his 'vigilante' bike _hard_ as he raced for his girlfriend's hotel. Sitting on the passenger spot was John Diggle, as they didn't have time to grab the van. They wore their vigilante gear, Diggle with his black leather jacket and bulletproof vest painted black (along with combat boots and pants and sleeves with armour built-in, and a balaclava). Oliver wore the almost infamous garb of the Green Arrow (at least to the criminals). A dark green getup, with armoured sleeves and steel-toed boots, with an armoured but still light jacket, and of course, his dark green hood.

They reached the hotel just as a security guard was thrown through the glass doors. The two vigilantes practically jumped off the bike as Oliver swerved to a halt on the concrete. Diggle checked the guard quickly as they passed. Bruised, but alive.

The duo walked into _quite_ a scene.

There was a security guard unconscious by the far wall, clearly having had one of those generic hotel plants thrown at him. The reception guy was down as well, his face smashed into the desk.

And Thea Queen fought hard against a mysterious man wearing black bandages wrapped around his face and falling down a little onto his chest in an almost scarf-like style. The mysterious intruder had left a sword where it had been thrusted into a phone left by someone, where the numbers read _911_ on the cracked screen, but no-one had pressed _call_ in time.

As Thea stumbled while the intruder delivered a decisive punch to her stomach, Oliver let out a growl and fired an arrow as he ran closer.

The intruder reached out with his right hand, and caught the arrow, calmly snapping it in two as he moved towards the archer calmly.

Oliver let loose a few more arrows, and Diggle fired some non-lethal – but still painful – shots via his pistol, but the intruder didn't care. Having observed the two new opponents, he pulled off a gauntlet from his right hand, and clenched his fist.

A red light blinded all in the room, and when they looked over, he was gone.

Diggle said what they were all thinking as Oliver ran over to check on Thea.

"What. The. _Fuck_."

 _ ***Arrow***_

He had few moments to spare as he re-appeared in the apartment in a flash of red light.

He moved quickly over to the one with the strange cry, and waved his hand, causing red mist to appear once more. He grabbed some of that mist with his hand, and placed it gently on the person's hand, where her skin looked slightly red for a moment as it was placed on her skin, before fading completely.

He took a quick cursory search around the apartment, taking note of the 'contacts list' of the phone left on a bed – from the room that the League-trained woman had sprung from – and quickly examining the photo left on the table with broken glass. After concluding he had nothing to find, he moved to the smashed window, and jumped into the night.

Seconds later, Oliver and Diggle ran into the room.

 _ ***Arrow***_

A man in a professional-looking black suit calmly walked into the SCPD building, explaining calmly to the desk sergeant who he was here to see. The cop nodded, and another guided him to the interrogation room. After exchanging some polite but pointed words, the cop nodded and closed the door, closing the blinds as well.

After a moment, the green light on the surveillance camera turned off, and the man in the suit sat down opposite a man with his hands cuffed to the table.

"Are you who they sent?" The man in the cuffs questioned instantly.

The man sighed. "No small-talk, I see. Yes, I am. I must say, we are _disappointed_ , Mr. Leahy."

"Why? I got the info, just got caught doing it." Leahy defended.

He sighed again. "Mr. Leahy… Fletcher, if I may. As much as we _are_ disappointed, tell me the information now, and I shall get you out of this... _Cesspit_ as soon as possible."

"Fine." Fletcher said unhappily. "You all were right. The Captain of the SCPD is definitely working with the vigilante and his friends. I found a file in his office. He wrote down some _names_. Malcom Merlyn. Slade Wilson. Ra's Al Ghul. Yeah, I know, weird names. I think it was his way of handling the uh… _Strangeness_ of this city. You know, writing it down."

The man smiled. "These names are familiar. And I doubt that he was 'handling it' by writing these things down. No, he was more than likely keeping track of this city's many enemies."

Fletcher sighed in relief. "Good, so, can you get me outta here?"

The man opened his black briefcase. "Easily. Just some papers and a bit of legal jargon, and you will be free. Alternatively…"

He raised something from the case. Not papers, or a pen.

But a silenced pistol.

"Mr. Darhk does not tolerate _mistakes_." The man said simply.

Before Fletcher could say a thing, a bullet found its way into his head.

His body slumped, the hole between his eyes visible as his corpse went limp. The man smiled slightly, placing the pistol back into his briefcase.

"After what happened with Mr. Blank three years ago, the resident police should really increase security." He said wryly, shutting the briefcase and rising to his feet.

The man straightened his tie, and walked out.

 _ ***Arrow***_

Through his _ways_ , he had heard about what had happened in the nearby police precinct, and then did some basic investigation. As much as he knew he needed to learn the full truth, he was… Preoccupied.

The vigilantes were smart enough to realize the possibility of people tailing them after his attack, so they had gone to ground, presumably using many a counter-surveillance tactic to avoid followers.

It didn't matter to him. He had… His _way_ of tracking them.

He sat in his improvised lair of sorts. It was high above the city, some abandoned penthouse. He checked who had owned it three years ago.

James Holder.

Killed by an assassin named _'Deadshot'_ , much to the chagrin of the vigilante.

How ironic.

He placed his sword on the table, then placed a piece of paper on the table, where it sat nearby photos and files of everything he had learned so far.

He was in the outside area, near to a pool. The place had been semi-maintained until perhaps a year ago, presumably when some billionaire or another decided they didn't want to buy the place, perhaps superstitious of the vigilante. Stranger things had happened.

There was quite a large indoor area as well, but he preferred the outside. He could see the cars passing far below, and the streetlights, and the buildings. It gave him… Perspective, and purpose.

He looked back at the papers. He had photos of several people of _interest_ to him. Some were lawyers and 'important' people who had come into town recently. Others were well-known players in his world, elite assassins and operatives he was keeping an eye out for. The League had been in Star City very _loudly_ – at least for them – last year. After that… Event, they had disappeared from the city, and for a few weeks, the world in general. They re-appeared across the globe soon enough, but again disappeared completely soon after…

Most mysterious. He wondered if the rumours of civil war were true.

The odd one in this group was _John Constantine_ , who he had suspected was in Star. The contacts list on that woman's phone had proved that true.

The final few images and notes were of the only information he had. Pictures of the adversaries he had met. Thea Dearden Queen, Dinah Laurel Lance, and the supposedly deceased Sara Lance. He could hazard some guesses and deductions on the last few identities of the vigilantes, but he'd prefer to know factually, rather than make a wrong call.

He looked at his intel, using his mystical right hand to supernaturally pull a comfortable-looking chair towards him. His hands were free, as his gauntlets and his wristbow were placed on one side of the table, along with some of his throwing knives and a few of his regular knives.

He sat down, staring intently at a police report he had _acquired_. It was typically over-long and full of bureaucratic nonsense, but he got the point. A man charged with breaking into the Captain's office was found with a bullet in his head. The police thought it may have the legal counsel, as a 'lawyer' had a meeting with the man, possibly moments before his death, according to the C. .

This didn't bode well.

The death might have _seemed_ unrelated to his task, but he had learned through his many years that life had a way of connecting things in odd ways.

He took one last look at the file, then placed it on the table. He stood up, grabbing his gauntlets and his weaponry on the table, before jumping off the penthouse, and into the darkness.

He had things to do, and vigilantes to track.

 _ ***Arrow***_

The man in the black suit walked calmly into a cheap-looking restaurant, sharing a nod at a chef as the guy let him into the back rooms, where – past the small kitchen – there was a table with a folder placed neatly on the table.

The man placed his briefcase on the table, and grabbed the folder, opening it.

There was a file, and he spent a moment reading it closely while the chef from before walked over and grabbed his case, replacing it with an identical briefcase.

The man nodded to himself, opening the briefcase to reveal… Equipment. A pistol and a silencer, a lockpick, a small bomb with a detonator, several syringes, and a cylinder that turned into a knife when a small button on the underside of it was pressed.

He looked satisfied, and closed the case. He moved to a cabinet nearby, where he took off his fancy suit in favour of a more casual shirt, hoodie and jeans style. He dropped the file back onto the table as he left.

Hours later, he was walking into a Big Belly Burger.

He sat in a stall, ordering a simple meal as he waited. Thirty minutes later, she walked in.

She still had a bit of a limp, her muscles probably still adjusting to moving once more, but she seemed to be recovering nicely. She looked positive about the future, her future.

Pity.

The man stood up, bringing his meal with him. As he moved from the stall, he schooled his features into a welcoming smile.

"Excuse me?" He said to her, false nervousness in his voice. "Do you mind if I sit in this stall? I just… Don't like being all alone at this hour."

He let off a nervous chuckle, and she smiled nicely at him.

"No problem." She said welcomely.

"Thanks." The man said, moving to sit opposite her. "So, what brings you to Star City?"

"If-if you don't mind me asking." The man added hastily.

"No, it's fine." She said. "I had an… Accident a couple of years back, so I left. Now, I'm back."

"That's nice." He said. "I'm a drifter, myself. Can't stay in one place for very long. Or one _job_ …"

They both laughed. When she looked downwards to check her phone, he made his move.

"Well, good luck with your next job." She said nicely, taking a chunk out of her burger. "I can't wai…"

She drifted off, suddenly aware of how _odd_ she felt.

She reached for her food to examine it, but she almost lost her balance just by trying to move her _hand_. Suddenly, she felt something far too familiar…

She felt _paralysed_.

"You might be wondering, _why me_." The man said calmly, his voice completely different, colder, more calculating. He revealed the syringe in his hand as he opened the briefcase by his feet, and quickly stored it away. "The simple fact is, my _employer_ doesn't want oh-so- _noble_ people like you around."

The man's uncaring eyes burnt into her scared ones as she tried to move, or at least _speak_ , but she just _couldn't_.

"Around the whole city, right now, perhaps even right this _second_ , there are professionals like me… _Cleaning up_. We do not want noble cops and angry troublemakers in this city."

She started to feel a slight tingle on the edge of one of her fingers, and felt a spark of hope.

"The temporary paralysis should be fading…" The man said casually. He stood up, and under the table, he flipped the cylinder, revealing a knife…

A knife that he calmly stuck between her ribs.

As blood pooled from the wound, and red started spluttering from her mouth, he leaned in close, twisting the blade as he did so.

"We just don't need people like you anymore." The man whispered coldly. "Goodbye, McKenna Hall."

He removed the knife and folded it back up, placing it in a jean pocket as he walked away, while she breathed her last, before collapsing onto the table.

 **A/N: In any invasion, there are casualties. This invasion is no different.**

 **I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, this was my longest one yet, and least by a little. Consider it my apology for not being active for a few days.**

 **Reviews:**

 **LycoX: Yeah, I'm glad that the disbelief came across. I figured that the team should react a bit more realistically to the few bits of sci-fi ridiculousness that I am leaving in. Most of it will be removed and/or changed in some way.**

 **Devon Goes to Heaven: Thanks for leaving a review, I greatly appreciate it! And yeah, I tried my best to give the team some much needed chemistry. And I figured that if these people fought crime in masks on a nightly basis,** _ **they might actually get along sometimes, Arrow**_ **.**

 **Please, feel free to leave a review, I appreciate them greatly.**

 **The next chapter shall be here soon…**


	5. Rash Choices and Emotional Investigation

_Rash Choices and Emotional Investigations_

Oliver Queen stood in his base, focusing on the clear glass board in front of him, where he and his team had put everything they knew about that strange intruder, and next to that board was another one, but for Damien Darhk.

The 'Darhk board', as Thea – and _only_ Thea – had called it, was covered in pictures and writing. Photos of the Ghosts and their weapons, along with images of the only base camp that the team had located. They discussed that revelation at the time the they had found it (hidden within the ever-so-dilapidated Glades), and decided to keep that intel for a later time, in case they were ever so desperate as to decide to attack a base without any information backing them up.

While Thea, Sara and Laurel recovered from the fight, Diggle and Oliver had been trying to work out who this intruder was, with little success. Lyla hadn't been able to dig anything up, and Oliver's contacts had nothing. His contacts were one of his many secrets, their identities hidden to all but him for the ultimate security. Oliver might trust his team, but that didn't mean secrets weren't necessary sometimes.

Even his contact in the _League_ had nothing. Oliver also had a talk with John Constantine, who had promised to look into it. Oliver then spent some time patrolling the streets and investigating the crime scenes that seemed consistent with the intruder's skillset. Afterwards, he had a talk with Ray Palmer, catching up and asking him about the future of Palmer Tech. After some excuses that Oliver called him out on, Ray finally confessed that he was going through some kind of identity crisis, after trying to build up some life-saving corporate giant, then being presumed dead, then realizing nothing had really changed with his 'death', or his life.

As much as he wanted to stop dealing with the constant headache of Palmer Tech, that he only survived with Walter Steel's help, Oliver conceded that he understood having an identity crisis. Hell, he empathised with Ray on a lot of things.

Strangely, despite their different skills and approaches, the two men had a lot in common. They had both tried to use their money and privilege for something _good_. They had both lost their hearts to Felicity Smoak at one point or another, and they both had to eventually reach the unpleasant conclusion that Miss Smoak had been manipulative and selfish. After all, that's why Oliver had kicked her off the team. He had heard from his contacts that she had been arrested for trying to hack some big-wig company or some such. She had been far too confident with her hacking skills, as always.

"Pride comes before the fall…" Oliver muttered to himself, smiling a little as he remembered all the old days when Laurel had forced him to read some quality literature 'for once in his life'.

He moved his attention back to the mysterious man who had attacked his team. Based on the assumption that the other crime scenes were also him (after all, the scenes had many things in common, like the usage of a sword, and the combat style), then he was clearly willing to kill, but possibly, much like he did as 'The Hood', he only killed when they were criminals and murders, or when it was in self-defence. Although he seemed to be willing to 'rough up' a civilian if they got in his way.

Disregarding his identity, Oliver's biggest question about the intruder was why he had followed Thea. He had left as soon as he and Diggle arrived via some magic that Oliver hadn't seen before, but the intruder still followed Thea. Did he fail in whatever mission he was engaging in? Or did something change?

If so, what changed?

But Oliver was interrupted from the questions congregating in his mind when a simple one-note noise came from all of the monitors in the base. He looked to his right (where the nearest monitor was attached to the ceiling), and watched as a news report appeared on the screen.

"This just in, a detective was found dead in a Big Belly Burger located in the Glades." The news anchor informed grimly. "We will go now to our reporter in the field, Carissa Calloway."

The news station changed its camera from the news station to a shot of a reporter with brown hair standing in front of a Big Belly Burger, which had cops and police tape surrounding it. Oliver watched intently.

"Thanks, David." The reporter said. "We are here in the Glades, where a detective has been found, stabbed while she a late-night snack in one of Big Belly Burger's regular stalls. The woman had just returned to Star City, and to her work as a member of our police department, after she was critically injured three years ago."

Oliver suddenly froze.

No, it _couldn't_ be…

"The detective, now identified as McKenna Hall, was shot by the Huntress during one of her assaults on her father's criminal organisation three years ago." The reporter continued. "Captain Quentin Lance is leading the investigation, who had reportedly known Detective Hall during their days on the Anti-Vigilante Taskforce…"

The news report continued, but Oliver didn't stay to listen. He put on his vigilante getup quickly, clenching his fist as he stormed out of the lair. As he got close to where he kept his bike, he couldn't keep his anger subdued.

He let out a roar, punching the wall so hard it left a large dent, and then he got on his bike and speeded away.

 _ ***Arrow***_

The Green Arrow landed quietly in the building, the only cops around being the ones keeping the civilians outside away from the crime scene.

The place was like any other crime scene, and he walked slowly towards the stall near the door outside.

He got close, and saw her body. His fists clenched even harder, and he bowed his head downwards in guilt.

This was on him, like it _always_ was.

He had caused the events that had led to her getting shot by Helena, because he was _too much of a coward_ to stop the Huntress. Without him, she would have been fine, and she wouldn't be here, lying dead in some third-rate fast food place.

He heard footsteps behind him, and he looked over to see his entire team standing awkwardly behind him (at a respectful distance).

"Ollie?" Laurel said gently.

"Yo-you…" Oliver cleared his throat, and hid the tear that had fallen down his angry face. "You shouldn't be here. You are all recovering. You should be at home."

"Man, we're right where we should be." Diggle retorted, and walked to him, giving Oliver a quick hug.

"We're here to _help_." Sara reminded, and he nodded. "So… What happened?"

Oliver cleared his throat again. "While, judging by the… State of the body, this happened twenty minutes ago, maximum. McKenna… The _victim_ must have been stabbed in the chest by a small, and concealable, knife."

He moved closer, leaning down to look at the veins on McKenna's neck.

"She had a chemical in her system." He said softly. "Maybe that's why she couldn't fight back…"

He stopped talking, and Laurel rushed over to him immediately.

"Oliver. This is not your fault." She said firmly, placing a gentle hand on his chin and raising his lowered head so he was looking at her. "I know that's what you are thinking right now."

She moved her head closer to his.

" _Don't_."

He nodded grimly, standing back up properly and moving over to his team. "The detective might find… _Half_ of what I did. Which means…"

"We tell Quentin?" Thea asked, but then she looked confused when Oliver shook his head slightly.

"I don't..." He began hesitantly, "We'll tell him, but…"

"What do you want to do, Oliver?" Diggle asked his good friend.

"I don't think I'm going to arrest who did this…"

Oliver's face hardened.

"I think I'm gonna kill who did this."

 _ ***Arrow***_

He observed the team of vigilantes as they caught up with their leader, sharing what looked like an emotional conversation as they examined the crime scene.

As always, he was watching from a rooftop. The superstition was at least somewhat true…

People really _don't_ look up.

He reached into his right sleeve and pulled out a crumpled picture, un-folding it and staring at the image.

He had his first suspect.

 _ ***Arrow***_

Laurel Lance watched as her lover hid his anger under a layer of cold as the team discussed the crime scene in the base.

She was no stranger to grief, much like Oliver. She remembered all the nights he'd wake up in a cold sweat, with a terrified look on his face, before he'd default back to a cold, blank gaze.

And now, they were all going through yet another loss.

Even the people that never really knew McKenna, like Thea, were clearly in a bad state. After all the time they spent fighting together, Laurel could recognise how they all went through loss.

Thea would try her best to hide her grief, sometimes falling into bad vices in a doomed attempt to ignore her feelings.

Sara would be looking for someone to hurt, constantly sharpening her knives and losing her sense of joy, wonder, and mischievousness, at least for a while.

Diggle would go into 'soldier mode', acknowledging his grief while also not trying to face it head-on, instead focusing on a problem at hand.

She would fall into whatever she could find to distract herself, like her legal career after she lost her sister and her boyfriend.

And Oliver…

He would go darker, falling into a pit of self-hatred and despair, seeking anything to distract like herself, but Oliver would go the extra mile, fighting the most suicidal fights just to escape his feelings.

The only way any of them could truly survive for very long was to work together, and fortunately they could do that. They were a team.

They would help each other, and somehow make it through.

But right now, they just had to _endure_.

They discussed the potential perpetrators of the act, and then realized they just didn't have the information to know for sure.

As soon as Thea asked if they could _find_ any more intel, Oliver walked out of the base without another word.

With a nod to Oliver's brother in everything but blood, Laurel and Diggle followed him.

 _ ***Arrow***_

The brakes screeched slightly as he parked, and he slammed the door as he got out, finally arriving at his desired location, a warehouse on the East Docks. He knew that Laurel and Diggle had followed him, but he had been trained by both A.R.G.U.S and the League of Assassins. He could lose a tail, even ones as insistent as they were.

He walked into the semi-empty warehouse confidently, a stone-cold expression on his face.

His expression remained unchanged when five Russians jumped from different (and rather obvious, honestly) hiding spots, guns at the ready.

"Hello." He said to the sixth Russian, who had entered through another door and walked over.

"You betrayed the _brotherhood_." Was the immediate response he got. No small-talk. Good, he wasn't in the mood.

"Yes." Oliver confessed. "I did. I was… Emotional. An old enemy had come back. He killed your men. And I stopped him."

"Why are you here?" The Russian questioned with a sneer. "To explain why you betrayed your _family_?"

"No." Oliver said coldly. "I am here to _apologise_. I'll do any favour you require."

The Russian considered his words for a long moment, then nodded reluctantly. "Fine."

He yelled a few things in Russian, and a thug dragged in two pathetic-looking Americans, who were dressed like janitors.

"These two were from some third-rate organisation here in the city." The Russian explained with disgust. "They tried to rob us. They… Regretted it."

Oliver took notice of the fact that neither of the two criminals had all of their fingers.

"Now, we have no need of them."

"Good." Oliver said evenly, walking over to the two. Before he got close, the head Russian raised his hand.

"No. You will use gun." He motioned to a pistol that another thug passed to him. "We heard of a trick, a way to _seem_ dead. We will not take that chance."

Oliver sighed, then nodded, and grabbed the gun. These two were the kind of people he had to kill all the time back in Russian, and during his time in A.R.G.U.S, _and_ when he got back, at least for the first year. He knew by their faces that the Bratva weren't lying. They _were_ criminals.

For a moment, he pushed the hypocrisy of the Bratva making him kill criminals to the back of his mind.

Then he raised the gun, and fired twice.

 _ ***Arrow***_

Amanda Waller, head of A.R.G.U.S and by extension A.R.G.U.S's 'Suicide Squad', was used to odd things. She didn't even blink when she saw Oliver Queen – in his vigilante outfit – waiting in her office, hiding in a shadow.

"Mr. Queen." She said simply.

"Waller." He replied darkly.

"To what do I own this visit?"

"I need intel." He said simply. "The recent death of a detective."

"Oh yes, McKenna Hall." Amanda said coldly. "An old flame of yours."

He sighed darkly. "Just give me the intel. I'll... _Owe you a favour_."

She considered it for a moment. She didn't owe Queen anything, at least not in her mind, so she could easily deny him. But he kept Star City under close watch (for the most part), and if she played her cards right, she could bring back one of her best agents. At least temporally.

"Deal." She said. "We will send whatever we find to your new base."

Without another word, Oliver faded into the shadows, and disappeared from her office.

"So _dramatic_ …"

 _ ***Arrow***_

The man finished his shower in the rather immaculate bathroom, giving his black hair a quick comb after turning off the shower. He walked into the lounge area of the ever-so-expensive penthouse, grabbing his suitcase from the table by the couch and the TV. He spared a casual glance at the well-dressed corpse on the couch, before giving his briefcase a quick once-over, and then walking out of the room.

He left the building, calling a taxi. He stared at his new file, but then his phone buzzed.

He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, and checked the text from 'unknown'.

 **A.R.G.U.S searching. Vigilante investigating.**

The man nodded to himself, tapping on the glass to grab the attention of the driver.

"Hurry, and they'll be a large tip in it for you."

 _ ***Arrow***_

He raced from one rooftop to another, using his grappling hook to swing from one building to another, landing on a floor with a quick roll as he ran. Soon, he found what he was looking for.

He landed quietly within the walls, using a special knife to open a small hole in a window without noise. He snuck in, searching carefully for what he was looking for.

The mansion had seen better days. There was dust everywhere, the outside walls were covered in graffiti, and many an object had been thrown through the windows. People didn't like the place.

In fairness, if someone had caused an earthquake that killed about 503 people, he wouldn't be exactly happy with them either.

He moved quietly but quickly through the large house, until he finally found what he was searching for. In the large garage, an old car hid a small hatch under it. He pushed the car a little, and ripped open the hatch, descending into its depths.

He found that the place he seeked was similar to what he suspected. A singular computer on a table, with one chair, and a series of other tables decorating the place. Each table had _equipment_ on it, ranging from guns to knives.

He walked to the computer and turned it on, but as the 'windows' logo showed and the computer started up, the 'pop' of a silenced weapon firing could be heard, and the monitor smashed as he looked behind him, to see a man dressed in a rather expensive-looking suit standing there with a pistol.

Without a word, the man pulled the trigger again, and he quickly cocked his head to the right as a bullet narrowly missed his face. The man went to fire again, but he raced forwards and reached him before he could fire again.

They wrestled with the weapon for a time, neither person seeming to have the upper hand, until he finally got the advantage, and pulled the gun from the man's grasp. He used his hands to break the little weapon in two, throwing the pieces behind him.

The man growled and went for a direct punch. He moved his hands to intervene, but the man was feinting, and actually dived to the side, colliding with a table. As he got close, the man revealed the new gun in his hand.

He didn't have the time he needed to dodge the gunfire…

The man pulled the trigger again and again, at least fifteen bullets hitting him directly in the chest. He paused for a moment, and looked down at his chest. The armour had blocked a few of the shots, but a couple bullets had hit the lucky spot between his armour. Blood started to flow from the wounds.

… Not that it mattered.

He just kept walking forward, and the man looked at him in disbelief.

" _Malcom_?" The man asked emotionally. "Is that you?!"

He cocked his head to the side, moving closer and unsheathing his sword. He twirled the blade as he got close, but the man was far too emotional to care.

He leant close, readying the sword where the man couldn't see it.

And he whispered one word in his raspy, mystical and old voice.

" _No_ "

Then he thrusted the blade through the man's back.

 **A/N: Who are these two?**

 **(Is the question I hope you are asking yourselfs)**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Oliver might seem a little OOC, but remember that he and the rest of the team are going through a lot of grief. I tried my best to capture that, and the Bratva shall be addressed more in the later chapters.**

 **Reviews:**

 **Good news, everyone. I broke LycoX.**

 **Please feel free to leave a review, and the next chapter shall be here soon…**


	6. Honour and Death

_Honour and Death_

The man in the suit grunted in pain as he ran, blood freely dripping from the gaping wound as he moved. He stumbled through the city, only moving in dark streets and alleys.

He had been _foolish_.

For a brief – but significant – few seconds, the man had let his guard down. And it had almost cost him his life. If it hadn't been for his quick actions, that would have been his last day. The sword had got him in the back, but the man had been able to wrench away from the strange man's grasp, and left a present in the form of an explosive in the room.

However, he wasn't taking any chances, not after what he'd seen…

The guy had taken fifteen shots to the chest, and kept walking. How he'd done that, the man had no idea, but it reminded him far too much of his mentor…

His thoughts were interrupted when suddenly, his bleeding grew worse, more and more blood dripping from his lower back. The man went to keep moving, but let out an angry snarl when he felt the pain grow.

The man reached into his pocket, pulling out his secondary phone. He had abandoned his primary form of communication and utility during the fight, as you never knew when an enemy could track you…

The man opened his phone, switching to his 'maps' app. He searched for the closest possible hospital, or at least something close. It was a rookie move, sure, but it was the only one he had…

 _Star City General. Too far away. Ample sniping opportunities._

 _Star Springs Medical Centre. Too close. Too obvious._

 _Fairview Hospital. Too private._

The man let out a growl at his fleeting options. The only other nearby hospitals weren't built yet, some kind of mayoral project to help rebuild the city. The man went to crush the phone with his hands, but then he spotted something.

 _Star City General Morgue._

 _Perfect._

He threw his phone to the ground, stamping his boot on the screen as he moved.

 _ ***Arrow***_

When he got there, things were… Unexpected, to say the least.

Bodies surrounded the outside of the building, and smashed windows and bullet holes were everywhere. The man got closer, scanning the corpses. Knives, Uzis and Knuckledusters.

 _Triad._

Suits, guns and bloodied fists.

 _Bratva._

He noticed that several corpses had arrows stuck in their chests and backs.

 _Vigilantes._

Several people were still alive, breathing heavily or trying to crawl away. The man rested on a pillar for a moment, and pulled out his silenced pistol. Several accurate shots, and he was alone again.

He stumbled into the morgue, which had a few more corpses scattered around. He called the elevator, leaving some blood on the button. The man growled again, resting on the wall as the elevator went down a floor, his gun held calmly in his left hand.

The doors opened, and he saw quite the scene around him.

Vigilantes, a man in a black suit, and a woman with white hair stood by a body on a slab, and they all had their weapons ready.

The man looked at what he had just walked into – a Triad elite, several people with extremely dangerous skillsets, and the infamous vigilante – and just sighed.

"As if my night couldn't get any worse…"

 _ ***Arrow***_

 _Hours before…_

Dinah Laurel Lance, despite the many trials and pains she had been through in the past few days, gave a grin as she pulled Thea off her feet with a well-placed strike via her baton.

Thea gave a dramatic sound of pain when she hit the ground, and Laurel let out a soft laugh.

"Remember, you're getting better, Speedy. As much as it doesn't _feel_ like it…" She quipped, reaching out a hand. Thea gave her a friendly glare, but still accepted the help up.

They both walked off the training mat, moving over to the 'boxing' area of the base.

Diggle and Sara were there, working out _hard_.

Diggle was punching the hell out of a punching bag, and Sara was murdering a dummy with precise hand strikes. Thea and Laurel watched in slight alarm (and slight concern) at the unrelenting nature of their friends training.

"Okay, guys, I know we don't take things _easy_ when it comes to training…" Laurel said,

"But aren't you guys training a little _too_ hard?" Thea finished.

"I'll rest when my brother's back with us…" Diggle grunted, and gave the punching bag a final blow.

"And we've taken down the guy who killed McKenna." Sara added, finishing her training with a roundhouse kick that took the dummy's head off.

"To catch McKenna, we need Oliver." Laurel pointed out as Diggle pulled off the bandages around his hands, and they all congregated in the 'planning' area, where they kept the boards on Darhk (and others). "He's our best shot at this."

"We need to focus…" Laurel continued, staring at the image of McKenna's body and the other crime scene photos. "We can't… Let our emotions get the best of us. Ollie told me a year ago, that emotions are hard to control, but if you don't you make mistakes. Mistakes that get other people killed…"

"He's right." Diggle agreed. "We can be angry, but we have to focus our anger on the right people. So, what now?"

"Now, we find Oliver." Laurel declared, and the others nodded. "He lost us when we tailed him, but we can still _find_ him."

"Where would Ollie go?" Thea asked.

"When… After what happened… With _Slade_ …" Sara said carefully. "After what he did…"

"You mean when he killed my mom." Thea said bluntly. "And then some other people."

"Yeah, some people, including Oliver's Bratva contact in Star City." Diggle realized. "He lost one of his assets…"

"… And now he's getting them back." Laurel finished, and he nodded.

"Wait, Oliver was in the _Bratva_?" Thea said in confusion and shock. Laurel looked at Diggle pointedly, but he just shrugged. She sighed loudly.

"Long story, Speedy."

Before Thea could say something inevitably sarcastic, Laurel's phone buzzed. She pulled it out, and looked at the caller in confusion. She sighed again, and answered.

"Hello?"

"Miss Lance, we are terribly sorry to disturb you at this time at night, but… Well…" A male voice said nervously.

"What is it?" Laurel demanded in irritation.

"It's… Your _brother_ , Miss Lance."

"… What."

"The Mayor has a new project, rebuilding hospitals. One was in the Glades… And, well, we found a body, and identified it."

She brought a hand to her face, her eyes betraying the emotion she was trying to hide from the rest of the team.

"It was identified as Jeremy Lance. I'm sorry. We are at Star City General Morgue, but if you need time, we can-"

She hung up the phone, dropping it on the floor.

Her hands were shaking, a tear falling down her face.

 _After all this time…_

"Laurel?" Thea said, scared. Diggle was concerned as well, and Sara rushed over to her, placing gentle but nervous hands on her shoulders.

"Sis? What is it?"

She took a deep breath, still shaking.

"It's… Our brother…"

 _ ***Arrow***_

They arrived at the morgue with barely a word to the people there, save Diggle's quiet and hushed words about why – or _who_ – they were there for.

Laurel was shaking again as the elevator dinged, and Sara wasn't doing much better, holding Laurel's hand tightly. Thea was practically latched onto Diggle, who tried his best to comfort her.

They reached the… Storage, and took slow steps into the dark room.

A staff guy said some generic apologies, and Diggle was smart enough to shoo him away, leaving them alone. Laurel slowly edged to a slab in the centre of the room, where a body was covered by black cloth.

"Before you pull it down…" Diggle said carefully, trying _so hard_ to stay as calm as he could for them, "You should know. The guy said that you, uh, shouldn't move the cloth past his face. And even the… Face… Is still, uh, 'not exactly pleasant'."

Laurel nodded shakily, moving a nervous hand over to the cloth. With her sister holding her other hand, she moved the cloth downwards…

She, her sister, and Thea, let out almost identical gasps of shock and emotion, Laurel and Sara had jumped back, and Diggle's eyes showed how he felt, while he still tried to be strong for them.

Laurel was the first to move back, with her sister close. Tears fell down her face as she traced a finger across the corpse's chin softly.

His face, once handsome and caring, now had a deep cut across his right eye, and other cuts were scattered across his visage. He had a deep hole in his left cheek in a square-like pattern, and his scalp was pulled back slightly. There were tears and holes in his skin, ranging from a hole where is left eye should be, to part of his jawline that was torn to shreds.

The Lance sister cried openly, and Thea wasn't far behind.

Laurel went to pull the cloth further, and Diggle let out a shout of warning, but it was too late. The sister cried more, and Thea almost vomited when she saw the rest of Jeremy Lance's body.

The top of his torso was merely scarred, but the lower part was… Another story.

From his waist to a bit of his chest, his flesh was torn, burn marks everywhere. One of his legs had survived, barely attached to the rest of him. At least, the leg up to the knee. Past that point was just more burnt and torn flesh.

Thea almost threw up again, but just prevented it. "How-how did he get _burnt_?" She asked insensitively, but no-one got angry.

No one replied, but suddenly the elevator 'dinged' behind them. The group tensed up, but then un-tensed slightly when they saw who it was.

"Ollie?" Thea said.

"Speedy." He said quietly. "Laurel. Dig. Sara."

Laurel ran over to him, and slapped him across the face.

"Where. Have you. Been." She growled. "You've been missing for almost two _days_ , Oliver…"

"I've been… Busy." He said evasively. "But that isn't as important as… This."

Laurel couldn't help it anymore, and a tear fell down her face as she enveloped Oliver in a hug.

"He didn't deserve this, Ollie." She said brokenly.

"He didn't deserve anything _like_ this." Sara muttered, trying to hide the brokenness of her voice with her personality.

Oliver moved over to the dead Lance with Laurel next to him, her hand tightly held in his. When he saw the burns, he took a step back.

"What is it, Oliver?" Diggle asked, knowing that look on his brother's face well.

"I-I…" Oliver trailed off. "Jeremy Lance disappeared three years ago…"

Sara's eyes closed for a moment when she heard that.

" _Where's my brother, Ollie?" She asked him when they had met again, brought together by their mutual protectiveness of Laurel._

" _Sara…" He said sadly. "Jeremy disappeared last year. No-one ever found him. He's… He's dead."_

 _She shook her head in denial, stepping away from him._

" _I'm sorry…"_

" _No!" She exclaimed. "Everyone thinks I'm dead, Ollie! He's still out there!"_

 _She paused, and took a breath._

" _He_ has _to be…"_

She opened her eyes again, watching as Oliver examined her dead brother closely. He was being respectful, but still thorough.

"I'm sorry, but Jeremy was crushed to death." He said, as gently as one could when saying _that_.

"Then-then how did he get _burned_?" Laurel asked emotionally, doing her usual thing, hiding from her emotions with work, no matter what that work was.

Oliver sighed, rubbing his hand on his face.

"I'm sorry…" He repeated again. "But… Jeremy was crushed _and_ burned. That means he could only have died in _one_ place, on _one_ awful night…"

"The Undertaking." Diggle realized. Oliver nodded grimly.

"When The Glades were collapsing, the factories there did the same." Oliver explained grimly. "Chemicals spilled out onto the streets and buildings. People got hit. And people _burned_."

He hugged Laurel tightly again, and Diggle did the same with Thea, but Sara just moved closer to the body, fists clenching.

"My _brother_." She said coldly. "Died because of Malcom _fucking_ Merlyn."

She turned over to look at Oliver, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"And _you_ are the one who let him live! He runs the _League_ now, for _fuck's sake_!"

Oliver replied to that quietly, but they all heard him.

"No he doesn't."

" _What_?!"

 _ ***Arrow***_

 _He stood in the penthouse, trying his hardest to explain his actions to his team._

" _To stop Ra's, I had to be deceptive._ Very _deceptive." He said. "None of you, not Laurel, not you, Dig, not even Malcom could know the full plan. If you all did, all it would take is one interrogation, and this whole city would be dead."_

" _You still hurt us, Oliver!" Diggle yelled back emotionally. "You still hurt people we_ care _about, you still manipulated all of us!"_

" _Because I had to, Dig!" Oliver yelled back. "I had to sacrifice_ everything _to stop Ra's! I had to sacrifice my rules, my beliefs, my friends!"_

" _You still kidnapped my daughter, Laurel's father!" Diggle replied as angrily. "Does our trust, our_ team _, mean nothing to you?! Because you say you care about us all, and yet you just kicked Felicity to the curb!"_

" _Felicity is_ not _part of_ my _team, Diggle." Oliver growled back. "I recruited her because I thought she cared about people. But she doesn't. She demanded that Ray save me over the whole city, made_ countless _decisions based on her own selfishness. She tried to drive a wedge between us and Laurel, tried to control us all. Someone like that, does_ not _belong on my team."_

 _At that, Diggle took a step back._

" _What are we going to do now?" Thea asked carefully._

" _You are going to train." Oliver started. "Diggle is either going to get over this, or find a new team. Laurel…"_

 _He looked over at the love of his life, and smiled at her, a smile that she returned._

" _Laurel, your life is your own. And I…"_

 _He hesitated._

" _My identity is exposed, my life outside the hood… Ruined. I need to fix that."_

" _How?" Laurel asked._

" _I need to take some time, visit some old…_ Friends _." Oliver said carefully. "I'm_ not _abandoning this city…_ My _city. I just need to be… Ready."_

" _Let me come with you." Laurel offered. He shook his head._

" _Laurel, this would be extremely dangerous. I want you to be safe."_

" _Yeah, safe punching criminals while dressed in fishnets." She said wryly, and he barked out a laugh._

"… _Okay." He said, and she smiled, leaning in to kiss him._

 _After a moment, Malcom cleared his throat, drawing the room's attention back to him. "As touching as this is, I think it's time for my reward,_ son _."_

 _They all scowled at him. Oliver sighed._

" _Follow me, Malcom."_

 _He smirked, following his son into a smaller room in the penthouse, which had a glass table in the middle of the room, along with a pool table by the wall, and a mini-bar by the windows. Also standing by the windows, was a familiar woman._

" _You killed my father." She said. Oliver nodded. "I wanted the pleasure of that act."_

" _What is Nyssa doing here." Malcom growled, and Nyssa did the same upon looking at him._

" _I promised you The Demon's ring after I killed Ra's." Oliver reminded him. "But I will_ not _give you that power."_

" _You can't kill me, son." Malcom said cockily._

 _Oliver growled. "You have… No_ idea _how much I want to. How much I want to_ tear _you apart, how much I want to watch your life_ end _. I don't_ care _that I share your blood."_

 _He sighed._

" _But too many have died tonight."_

 _Before either Ra's-Al-Ghul wannabe could say anything, he showed the ring he held in his right hand, and he brought the hand down onto the glass table, smashing the ring onto the surface so hard the table cracked. Nyssa and Malcom's eyes locked onto the ring._

" _You two can prove to each other who the true Ra's is." Oliver finished._

 _He didn't even look back at either of them as he walked away, slamming the door behind him._

 _ ***Arrow***_

"Just to be clear, you let Nyssa and Malcom fight it out on their own who gets to be Ra's, which has caused a civil war." Sara repeated, and Oliver nodded. " _Just_ because you didn't want to kill anyone."

"I didn't have any good options." He explained. "I know what I did was questionable, but sometimes I have to make choices that this team won't understand."

"This life isn't an easy one…" Diggle muttered, and Oliver nodded in agreement.

"That's not even important. What we need to do, is to find Malcom. And kill him." Laurel said venomously.

"Laurel, I love you." Oliver said simply. "And I will always stand by you. But do you _really_ want your first kill to be Malcom?"

"He's right." Diggle added. "Your first kill… It changes you. Warps you into something different. You aren't the same afterwards."

Laurel took a deep breath. "I don't care."

"Well then." Oliver said evenly. "Let's find Malcom."

Diggle pulled out a board, this one with Malcom Merlyn's picture in the middle, with lines and pins connecting other notes and images to the centre photo.

"This is Malcom's network." Oliver explained. "Ranging from a monk with a failing monastery, to assassins for hire."

He pointed to several pictures, all of them crossed out in red.

"These are the ones we've found. They're either dead, or imprisoned in some way."

"But his network is massive." Diggle said grimly. "And we've linked several… Employees of Malcom's to H.I.V.E."

"Culver Spann." Oliver began, "Conman."

"Wayland Hiebert." Diggle continued. "Elite Mercenary."

"Farlie Weisberg." Oliver said. "Freelance 'fixer'. Assassinations, mercenary work, thievery, heists."

"The odd man out is Blake Archfield." Diggle stated, pointing to an image of a man with black hair with a streak of red, along with grey eyes and a calm demeanour. "He's-"

"He's extremely dangerous." Oliver described. "And very resourceful. I've ran into him before, about three years ago. He hasn't done any jobs in Starling since, but I never thought that was just because of me…"

"You think it's because he found a new employer." Laurel said, and he nodded.

Sara looked at the board carefully, and sighed. "Ollie, there are too many leads here. We don't know where to start."

"But we do." Oliver said darkly, grabbing an unmarked folder from the nearby table, and opening its contents. "I've looked through it already…"

The team huddled around the files, examining them closely.

"Jasen Loss." Sara muttered. "Elite assassin. Oh, sorry, _suspected_ elite assassin."

"He's never been convicted or charged." Laurel noted, then noticing the familiar watermark on the files. "Ollie, these are _official_ A.R.G.U.S files!"

Diggle looked over at his brother. "Waller?" He asked, and Oliver nodded. "I sure hope it was worth the price, man."

"Price?" Thea asked in confusion.

"With Amanda there is _always_ a price." Oliver muttered, remembering his time working in A.R.G.U.S, and that town in Springboro, Ohio. He hid a small shake at _those_ memories.

"Ollie…" Sara said when she worked it out. "This lead…"

"Yeah, you're right." Oliver said, knowing what she was thinking. "I suspect this man killed McKenna. And we now know he used to work with Malcom…"

Diggle summed up the situation well.

"So we have a _very_ personal lead, then…"

 _ ***Arrow***_

She sat in the bus, chained up as always.

She had another trial coming up, in the eternal fight between her lawyers and Starling – no, now _Star_ – city. She truly didn't care about the legal issues, but she _did_ care her business.

Since her imprisonment, the vigilante had destroyed their influence over the city. The main players of Star City were falling apart. There was always going to be organised crime, but thanks to the vigilante, whoever was on top didn't last very long.

Hence, why her last order before her incarceration was to be much more _subtle_ with their business, primarily making bigger moves outside of Star City. So, truly, she cared less than one might think about her trial. As long as her people were still free, and her honour was intact, she was at relative peace.

At least, she was until she heard the news on the radio.

She was sitting quite close to where the guards were driving, and could hear the radio quite well. For a while it was just generic music, but soon, it switched to a news report.

" _In other news, the body of Jeremy Lance has finally been located."_ The voice on the radio reported, and she sat up straighter. _"Morgue workers will not comment, but it is suspected that he died during 'The Undertaking'. Jeremy Lance was a beloved son and brother, and his father is the current Captain of the SCPD, Quentin Lance…"_

The report continued, but that didn't matter. Now, she was honour-bound to escape.

She took a moment to examine her options, before calmly standing up and walking to the prisoner sitting on the row of seats next to hers. Before the woman could comment, she quickly pulled her chains over the woman's neck, choking her for a few seconds, before snapping her neck loudly.

The bus reared to a halt, the guard behind her rushing over with a baton, and two others with guns charging in from the closed-off 'driving' area.

The guard with the baton went to hit her over the head, and she ducked under the blow, coming up behind the man, pulling her chains over his neck and holding him there as he choked.

The two guards couldn't fire without shooting him, and that second of hesitation was all she needed.

She snapped the man's neck without a second thought, pushing the now-corpse towards the other two guards. They stumbled, and as they were getting up, she had already made her way over there.

She broke one of the guard's necks, and pushed the other guy's head down with her boot, before snapping the baton from a fallen guard in two. She calmly inserted one of the broken bits of baton into the guard's neck.

The driver was already yelling at a walkie-talkie he had pulled out, and as his friend gurgled on his own blood, the driver met his end with the other piece of baton jabbed in his eye.

Chien Na Wei, also known as China White by some, took in the fresh air and surroundings, before calmly advancing to a nearby forest area as sirens got closer to the bus that laid in the middle of an empty road.

 _ ***Arrow***_

The team were still in the base, training and compiling information, when the alert went off.

The 'alert' was a small siren noise that went off whenever something significant or relevant was reported. The team rushed to the closest monitor (one of the ones attached to the wall), which had already turned itself on, as they were designed to do when alerts went off.

The monitor crackled to life to show the dash cam of a police car, where a prison bus was still in the middle of the road. Forensics were moving bodies out in body bags, and detectives were on the scene.

Laurel's phone buzzed, and she answered it.

" _Hey, Laurel."_ Her father's voice said. _"I'm sure you've heard about the prison bus… Uh, incident. We know who got out."_

"Yeah?" Laurel muttered.

" _It's China White."_ He informed. _"Now, why she waited this long for an escape attempt, or what she's planning is beyond me. But… I just got a report of Triad activity near the Star City General Morgue."_

"Oh my god." Laurel said in shock. "Dad, you must have heard on the news, I'm so sorry, in the heat of the moment I forgo-"

" _Laurel, I'm the captain of the SCPD."_ He reminded her sarcastically. _"I heard about… Jeremy. I just gave you space, figured you'd need to uh, process it."_

"Are _you_ processing it?"

" _We can worry about me later."_ He said quickly. _"Right now, you should all get to Star City General Morgue, and figure out what the hell is going on."_

Laurel hesitated for a moment, but took a breath, calmly herself.

"We'll head there now."

 _ ***Arrow***_

When they got there, the vigilantes wasted no time.

Oliver let loose his arrows, hitting many a Triad member in the shoulders and the chest. Diggle opened fire, one hand holding a tranquilizer pistol, and the other holding a much more lethal gun. Speedy contributed with her own arrows as well, Sara fought with her hands and knives, and Laurel charged forwards with Oliver by her side, using her Canary Cry to keep Triads away.

Laurel broke the leg of a guy who got in her way, and Oliver shot one man in the chest, and threw the other guy through a window. She smashed the doors open with her Cry, and Oliver did a front-flip through the broken window, letting loose four arrows into people while he was still in the air.

They charged further, Oliver stabbing a Triad with an arrow when he tried to ambush them. They reached the elevator, and called it.

Soon, the elevator arrived, revealing six Triads wielding knives.

Oliver calmly fired three arrows at the same time, Laurel lashed out onto the fourth Triad with decisive jabs that knocked the guy down quickly, and an arrow from Thea along with a tranquilizer round from Diggle took out the last two guys.

They entered the elevator, Oliver smashing the 'down' button.

The team arrived in the basement…

To see China White standing by Jeremy Lance's body, looking almost… _Emotional_.

"Emerald Archer." She muttered to him, ignoring all the weapons raised at her as the team slowly walked into the basement. "And… _Friends_."

"What are you doing here." The Green Arrow growled angrily, tightening his grip on the drawn arrow. "What are you doing in the _morgue_ , by the body of Jeremy Lance. Why are you here?!"

"I am here for the same reason that I do not reveal your identity to certain people, _Oliver_." China said casually, to the team's shock. "My honour."

She looked respectfully at Jeremy Lance's body. "He may have been an enemy of mine, but he was a… Worthy adversary."

Before anything could be said, questions could be asked, actions could be made or threats could be claimed, gunfire could be heard from outside, and the elevator 'dinged'.

They all looked over to the elevator doors, China calmly pulling out several knives.

The doors opened, revealing a man in a dark suit and a beard.

"Oliver." He muttered, his accent clear in his voice. "Chien Na Wei. John Diggle. And… Others."

"Anatoly?" Oliver exclaimed in confusion.

"I see the Triad are here for the same reason the Bratva is." Anatoly said, ignoring Oliver's confusion. "And, Oliver, you are my favourite American again. Because of your recent favour to this family, and…"

Anatoly moved closer to Jeremy Lance.

"And because he is gone."

"What." Laurel began furiously. "The hell. Is going on."

"He was a friend." Anatoly said somewhat sadly.

"And a great enemy." China added.

" _What_?!" Sara growled.

Oliver sighed deeply, and rubbed his face with his hand. "Laurel, Sara. For the record, I only kept this from you because I made a promise. And I was planning to tell you anyway."

"What is it, Oliver?" Laurel asked shakily.

"Jeremy…" He trailed off. "Jeremy was-he was the _other_ vigilante."

"He was Swift." Oliver revealed.

"I never managed to kill him." China White reminisced. "He was too… _Fast_."

"He was a great brother." Anatoly said. "A good member of our family."

Laurel and Sara didn't even say anything yet, too shocked for words.

But before anyone could say anything, explain anything, explain how some caring, nice, loving brother had become a deadly vigilante, the elevator 'dinged' again.

They all readied weapons again, Anatoly pulling out a pistol from his suit pocket.

A tall man walked in, wielding a silenced pistol, bleeding from his back, almost falling as he stumbled into the basement. He looked up at the crowd watching him, and sighed.

"As if my night couldn't get any worse…"

Oliver moved closer with his arrow nocked.

"I know you." The Green Arrow growled. "Jansen Loss, you have failed this city!"

 **A/N: So, I've been away from this fic for far too long, so here's a longish chapter for you all. Consider it my birthday present to you, only a couple days late.**

 **I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I'm sure there are many questions, of which answers shall reveal themselves over time. Since this a long chapter, I'm sure I've made some typos and/or grammatical errors, to which I apologise.**

 **And LycoX, I hoped you like the 'Meet The Wallers' Reference:P**

 **Reviews**

 **LycoX: Good to know. And very true.**

 **Devon Goes to Heaven: Thanks for reading, I always appreciate your reviews. And thank you! I'm glad the newer chapters seems that way.**

 **Guest: Well, here you go, guest.**

 **I hope everyone enjoyed and was intrigued by this new chapter. The next one will be here much sooner. Please, feel free to leave reviews, they help me a lot, and the input is always quite nice.**

 **I'll be back…**

 **And sooner than you think…**


	7. Fights and Failings

_Fights and Failings_

 _The two of them fought, standing in an arena underground._

 _Or rather, they sparred._

 _Each held a bamboo stick in one hand, and the aim of the game, as it were, was to never get hit._

 _The older of the two was calm, confident, and a little cocky. He blocked every blow thrown at him, and retorted with several of his own._

 _The younger was struggling somewhat, but still calmly took the attempted hits, blocking and dodging expertly._

 _After several minutes, the older man finally won, hitting the younger man with a blow to the chest that caused him to fall onto his back._

" _You're getting better." The older man muttered as he stood over him, reaching a hand downwards. "One of these days you might even win. Maybe even within the next few decades."_

 _They shared the same deadly serious expression, before bursting into laughter, the younger man accepting the offered hand and getting pulled up._

" _That's all we have time for today, however." The older man said._

" _Oh? What do you have planned?" The younger one asked his mentor curiously. They usually kept training for many more hours, unless his mentor had given him a more… Important task to do._

 _The oldest in the room sighed deeply, his voice tinged with regret. "I need you to… Do something. I would do it, but I need an alibi, unlikely as this plan is to fail…"_

" _What is it?" The younger one asked._

" _I need you to place an explosive on a soon-to-depart ship." The mentor deadpanned. "I wish I could give this man the honour he deserves. But I can't place the device myself."_

" _He's a friend?" The apprentice queried, and his mentor nodded sadly. "Well, then I hope you'll be okay. You know my past. I know how it feels to face hard choices…"_

" _I know." His mentor said. "But I still need this done."_

 _He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small piece of paper, which he passed to the apprentice._

" _Here's the details." The mentor said, and the younger one's eyes flicked down the paper quickly, before he nodded and put the note in his pocket._

" _Explosive placed strategically to look like a normal crash, no witnesses…" The apprentice muttered. "You got it, Malcom. I'll get to work immediately."_

 _ ***Arrow***_

When he walked into the world's worst place for an assassin to be, a room full of vigilantes, he knew he was in trouble.

When the archer said that infamous line, he knew he was in a _lot_ of trouble.

Nevertheless, his mind went to work, quickly examining the skillsets and fighting stances of all present in the room, noting the corpse they all stood near (save the archer, who was moving closer to him while readying an arrow), and most importantly, his exits.

The morgue had only one way out: the elevator.

The problem with going for the elevator: everyone else readying their weaponry, and the time-consuming nature of the slowly closing elevator doors, leaving ample time to fire a shot or throw a knife.

 _Fuck._

He needed to _stall_.

The best way to stall angry vigilantes?

Making them _think_ too much.

Jansen thought back to what the archer had just said, and found his stalling tactic.

"Oh?" He said mockingly, a sneer beginning on his face. "And how have I _failed this city_?"

"You killed Detective McKenna Hall." Green Arrow growled.

"Not to mention you are suspected in the murder of a man who was caught breaking into the SCPD's Captain's office." The Black Canary added, sounding as angry as the archer.

"Can you _prove_ that?" Jansen asked cockily. "Where's your _evidence_?!"

"You fit the profile, skillset and appearance of the killer." The man in the balaclava stated.

"Oh, so I've _'failed this city'_ by being a _bit like_ a murderer?" Jansen laughed scornfully. "Is that how you operate, archer? Just who _seems_ to have done it? How are you _any_ better than _The Huntress_ , or _Swift_ , or any of the other _mental nutcases_ ,who masqueradeas _crusaders of justice_ , all while indulging in their own _vendettas_?!"

Almost everyone, save the guy in the black suit and the woman with white hair, stepped back and hesitated slightly when he delivered that speech. For even a small moment, they were _hesitant_.

He had hit the sweet spot.

Time to take advantage.

He took that small moment and turned it into his escape, pulling out a small clump of plastic from his back pocket, and throwing it at the centre of the room. The archer fired an arrow, but he spun to the side, and it missed him narrowly.

They went to rush him, but he raised a detonator in his other hand while making a 'tut-tut-tut' sound.

"Explosive." He said sarcastically, pointing at the clump of plastic, then moving that finger to point at what he held in his other hand. "Detonator. Simple, but effective. Kill me, tranquilize me, whatever. But I'll _still_ have time to press this little button, and blow you all to hell."

He chuckled, moving backwards towards the elevator.

"Bye-bye!"

With that, he pressed the 'up' button, and left the morgue. Jansen immediately moved to the closest wall, and slammed against it, breathing heavily as his wound bled even more.

 _ ***Arrow***_

Oliver Queen was many things.

But he _never_ gave up without one hell of a fight.

So, he didn't talk to his team, or try to attack China White, when the assassin left in the elevator.

Instead, he quickly pulled out an explosive arrow, blowing the elevator doors open. He ran towards them, looking up to see the elevator slowly ascending to the ground floor.

As soon as the elevator came to a halt, he fired another explosive arrow at it, blowing open a hole. He fired a grapple arrow, and ascended quickly.

He landed with a roll on what was left of the elevator floor, looking back down the hole to see his team. Without hesitating, he threw his bow and a few arrows down the hole.

He might love that bow, but he also loved his team. And they needed to get back up, anyway.

Oliver ran through reception, noticing police sirens loudly screeching outside. He smashed through a nearby window, and stood in some bushes, observing the situation.

The assassin, Jansen, was standing there, bleeding severely from his wound. He had his hands raised, and a cop walked over and went to cuff him.

Then all hell broke loose.

 _ ***Arrow***_

He played along with the cops, throwing his pistol to the ground and raising his hands into the air.

There were far too many to fight in this situation, after all.

An officer – male, mid-thirties, at least a decade on the force, experienced gunsman judging by the way he handled his weapon – walked over to him, cuffs ready in one hand. Jansen listened to the instructions yelled at him, putting his hands on his head and turning away from the cops.

The policeman grabbed his hands to cuff him, and he responded by grabbing the cop's hand, spinning around and twisting it painfully. With the speed of a cheetah, he pulled the guy into a headlock, and held the cop's own gun to the cop's own head.

He laughed while the police lost it, the detective with the speaker yelling the usual threats and promises, while all the cops readied for a firefight.

Jansen had the situation handled once more.

… Until he heard a certain _scream_ , and an arrow lodged into his shoulder.

He fell to the ground, the vigilantes and the cops surrounding him.

Jansen tried to do _something_ – _anything_ , really – but his bleeding was out of control, and a certain archer had a boot calmly positioned on his face.

His injuries were too terrible. He couldn't _think_ straight. He couldn't keep track of what was happening. The cops were… Speaking to the….. Vigilantes….

Jansen went to faint, but one thing stopped him…

On a rooftop nearby, he could _just_ see a certain person.

A mystical sort, wearing the outfit he remembered so well from their fight mere hours ago…

" _No…."_ He murmured, blood pooling on the floor as the cops argued with the vigilantes. _"Not you…"_

He almost fainted again, and when he looked back up, the… _Person_ … Was gone.

He muttered one last thing before he fainted, something so quiet that the vigilante above him almost didn't hear it.

 _Almost_.

"I'm sorry, Malcom…"

 _ ***Arrow***_

 _The infiltration was easy, the delivery of the explosive clean, with no witnesses._

 _Jansen went back to Malcom after his fancy dinner with high society to tell him, with hushed tones in an unoccupied room._

 _Malcom was pleased with him, but clearly was also sad._

" _I'm sorry, Malcom." Jansen muttered._

" _It's… Fine, Jansen." Merlyn replied. "I may be sad, but this is… Necessary."_

" _Okay, Malcom." He said. "I'll meet with you tomorrow. Good luck at whatever next overly-posh thing you have to do tonight is."_

 _Merlyn barked out a slightly sombre laugh, and Jansen walked away._

 _ ***Arrow***_

Oliver Queen stared at the mugshot attached to the board.

He just _stared_.

The rest of the team, after a tense discussion about, well, everything, from Jeremy Lance to Jansen Loss, had left. They needed to sleep, to try to heal.

Oliver, however, just couldn't bring himself to leave the base.

He didn't know how long he spent standing there, mulling over his many regrets, before he heard her beautiful voice from behind him, a moment after he heard her footsteps.

"You okay, Ollie?"

Oliver sighed deeply, Laurel hugging him tightly upon contact, and she stood by his side as he stared at the board.

"I really wanted to kill him, Laurel." He said brokenly. "I _hate_ killing. It… It can rip you apart. Tear your soul to pieces. But, _goddamnit_ , I wanted to _kill_ Jansen."

"I know, Ollie. But that's because he killed someone you cared about." Laurel said, somehow both logical and soothing. "Of course you'd want to kill him. It doesn't make you a bad person."

He sighed deeply again. "Whatever my feelings around myself and _Jansen Loss_ , there's something more important, Laurel."

He shoved the board on Jansen loss to one side, and walked over to where yet another board stood.

In the middle of this board, was a picture of a certain someone.

"Malcom Merlyn." Laurel breathed.

"Yup." Oliver said simply. "I want to kill Jansen for murdering someone I cared about. The same goes with you and Merlyn. He killed over 500 people, from Tommy…"

"To my vigilante brother." Laurel muttered. "So? What are we going to do? Where do we start?"

"Laurel, this is personal to both of us. _And_ the team. But they don't need to know the details… The dark details of what we are going to do. We don't need to burden them with everything."

"They'll know what we are doing, and what we will do, but they won't know everything." Laurel summarised, and Oliver nodded in agreement.

"We all have our personal connections to Merlyn. But we can't all get completely involved in this." Oliver murmured. "It's risky, and it may blow up in our face…"

"But it's what we'll do." Laurel summed up, and he nodded again. "Only someone like Sara really understands this… Dark world."

"Yup." Oliver agreed, pulling out a flechete that he passed to Laurel, which she promptly threw. Thanks to his training, it landed in its intended place, stuck in the picture of Malcom.

Oliver smiled at the skills he had taught her, then looked grim once more as he stared at the picture.

"Then let's go kill Malcom Merlyn."

 **A/N: My deepest apologies for my long absence. For a while, I just couldn't get around to writing this, for which, again, I apologise.**

 **I also apologise for this chapter, as it was intended to be far bigger, and explore the plot points that are beginning in this story very soon. However, instead of leaving this for another week, I wanted to add** _ **something**_ **to this story, so I wrote this very brief chapter. I hope everyone enjoys it, and I fully intend to make the next chapter both better and bigger, not to mention released sooner.**

 **Also, this chapter is probably less 'edited' (looked over after I completed writing it), so one imagines flaws and errors abound, but again, I just wanted to release something today, so I hope this chapter helps keep the interest going while I work on the next one.**

 **Finally, you may notice that the title of this fic has changed a little, which is primarily so I can release a later Arrow fic without it looking like it is part of this particular universe in this fic. If people really don't like it, I'll consider changing to something better.**

 **Reviews:**

 **(Note: thank you to everyone who has reviewed, feedback really helps and really keeps me going with this story)**

 **LycoX: Oliver's decision will be explored in the future, at least probably. I intended to explain Swift more in this chapter, but alas, it did not happen. Glad you enjoyed the reference. And very glad you enjoyed.**

 **Risinhero14: Malcom is Oliver's blood father. This may or may not be explored in future.**

 **Stand with Ward and Queen: Thank you for reviewing and enjoying the chapter! I always love to see reviews from you, and I am very glad you enjoyed the flashback scenes, and Oliver's decisions.**

 **Devon Goes to Heavan: Thanks very much for the review! I'm glad to hear that my descriptions are getting better and better. I fear this chapter's quality is a decrease compared to the others, but that will hopefully not stay the same for later chapters.**

 **Phillipe363: Thanks for the reviews! I love how much detail you go into, it really helps a lot. Glad you enjoyed the action scenes, the bits about Felicity, all my changes with the team throughout, and I am extremely happy to hear the tone is what I was going for.**

 **I agree with the OC's, and hope that my OCs don't fall into too many of the typical trappings. I'm very happy the whole team-speech thing came across right. These people get that sometimes people have to die.**

 **Thanks heaps for the reviews, everyone. I'll be back, hopefully with a much better chapter.**

 **Until then, enjoy this chapter, and look forward to the hopefully better one coming soon!**


	8. Hunting and Losing

_Hunting and Losing_

Occasionally, a tourist to Star City would ask 'why so many abandoned warehouses?'

Usually the person asked such a common question would just shrug it off, but if one was lucky, a tourist could get the answer from a chattier citizen of Star City.

The truth was, thanks to 'aggressive expansion' by companies like Queen Consolidated and Merlyn Global, the number of warehouses built for the city tripled, because the need for more storage space was that significant.

But after Robert Queen fired thousands of workers and moved his operations to China, and Merlyn Global was shut down and quietly re-branded to avoid affiliation with Malcom Merlyn, many buildings were left forgotten and abandoned.

Soon enough, criminals realised the usefulness of such an isolated series of buildings, and quickly begun to use them as meeting locations, for deals of all kinds.

Blake Archfield was no exception to this, and he – and his group of mercenaries – picked the most run-down building of the lot, and used it for almost every service they provided, from arms deals to kidnappings. He had been pleasantly surprised by Starling City, as Blake had expected the usual nonsense when it came to his services.

People were so _unoriginal_ these days…

His group had been quite pleased when they realised what Tempest wanted them to achieve. They were sourced enough intel and spies to prepare for the ultimate night, a quick and decisive strike that their employers only referred to as 'The Undertaking'.

They had enough guns for a small war, and were fully prepared for the night to come months before it was scheduled to happen.

But then the _Hood_ showed up.

For a while they played a wonderful game, fights and sabotage aplenty. Blake was confident he would succeed even after the vigilante took down most of his men, but then his employers became unreliable, and he started to hear rumours about the leader of this strange group, and how the other members were dropping like flies, thanks to a mysterious 'enforcer'.

After he heard about what happened to Frank Chen, Black Archfield cut his losses and left the city. What was left of his group came with him, the others either dead or in prison.

And then The Undertaking happened.

People died, others were shocked and terrified, and, most importantly, many criminals escaped Iron Heights.

The Hood – now known as The Arrow – successfully took down The Dollmaker and killed The Count, but even after he and his growing group of vigilantes tracked down most of the scum who had escaped that night, some slipped past his grasp.

One of these people was a former member of Archfield's group, along with several others that escaped.

They had started up a small arms smuggling business in The Glades (using Blake's old warehouse as a staging ground), and were slowly expanding into the higher echelons of the city, growing more confident with every success.

But they wouldn't be successful forever…

 ** _*Arrow*_**

He cursed in fear as he ran through the damp, dark hallway.

He could _hear_ the footsteps above him, growing faster with every step. Two of his group were already down, although he didn't know _how_.

All he heard was some weird high-pitched scream.

He almost bumped into a pipe hanging from the floor above him, and he hurriedly loaded the pistol in his hand as he ducked under the bit of metal. He kept running in the same direction, still hearing those footsteps from above.

He finally reached the corner of the building, and he promptly almost ran straight into the wall.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" He screamed, firing wildly into the shadows. He could barely see anything a meter away from him, courtesy of a very flickery lamp.

For a brief second, nothing happened.

Then he saw the shape of someone throwing themselves at him, and he fired five times before a single thought went through his head.

Then he realised who he just shot, and his shaky hands caused the gun to clatter to the floor.

"Good job." A quiet voice said from the darkness. "You just shot your own friend."

Before he could respond, he suddenly heard a high-pitched scream, and the wooden wall right next to him was blow apart, and in walked the Black Canary.

"Caddrick Malik…" She began…

"You have failed this city." The Green Arrow finished as he walked into the flickering light.

Before Caddrick could think of something to do, The Green Arrow already had a firm hand over his throat, and promptly pushed him into the nearby wall, so hard he heard a cracking sound.

"You are going to tell me everything about your former employers, before the night of The Undertaking." The Green Arrow said dangerously. "If you don't, my friend here will scream until your ears bleed."

"And then some." The woman added, now standing next to her vigilante partner.

The vigilante chuckled darkly. "I'd take her at her word, if I were you."

"O-okay!" Caddrick managed to choke out. The Black Canary smiled darkly, and The Green Arrow let go of his throat, to which Caddrick promptly fell on the ground.

"All I know is what Blake told me…" He muttered. "He was the only one who met with whoever represented our employers, and he kept that location a _close_ secret. The only other person who knew was Crissie, the second-in-command…"

"Of course…" The male vigilante muttered, stepping back to let The Black Canary walk closer.

"Thanks." She said sarcastically, before delivering a hard punch directly at Caddrick's face.

 ** _*Arrow*_**

"Slow progress at best…" Oliver murmured as he placed his bow on a table. They were not in their primary base, but Oliver's secondary base. This was personal, after all.

"But still progress, Ollie." Laurel pointed out as she sat on a chair close by to him. "What have we got on… _Crissie_?"

"When they join, all of Blake's mercenaries have themselves erased from every database on the planet." Oliver informed. "Every name is fake, every identity scrubbed. Trust me, I've tried to recover even a _scrap_ of info, to no success. Even A.R.G.U.S can't find anything."

"So, what do we do?" Laurel asked, leaning back on her chair.

"We rely on physical information." Oliver said, moving over to a big cabinet and opening a drawer. He pulled out a large leather book, and placed it on the nearest table.

"What's that…" Laurel asked as he flipped through the pages quickly. "Wait, was that a picture of Roy?"

"It was actually a screenshot from a surveillance camera, long before he met Thea, or me. And if it's any comfort, I have intel on everyone." Oliver quipped as he continued to flip through pages. "This is my _dossier_. Every bit of physical evidence I've ever collected, all in one book."

"You've always been smarter than people think…" Laurel said cheekily, and Oliver chuckled.

"Here we go…" He said, and Laurel stood up and moved next to him. "Blake Archfield, and his group."

Laurel's eyes widened as she stared at the page. "What were they planning?"

"A massive assault on The Glades, planned in conjunction with The Undertaking." Oliver said grimly. "I stopped the group, but Archfield got away."

"Jesus Christ…" Laurel said as her eyes kept scanning over the page. "Who supplied the guns?"

"Archfield did. That was what kept him from being just another merc. Well, that and his fighting skill." Oliver informed. "He supplied everything gun-related himself. No-one knows how."

"Jesus Christ..." Laurel swore as she looked through several files. "How the hell did you beat this guy, Ollie?"

"Honestly, I didn't." Oliver admitted. "We left on... Fairly even footing. I had planned to go after him in some way after dealing with Malcom, but after what happened..."

"Yeah..." Laurel murmured, for a moment remembering everything that they had been through.

They both went silent for a moment as Oliver flipped through his dossier, before his eyes suddenly widened.

"That's it…" He said, moving the book so Laurel could see it too. "Look at this photo. Notice anyone we know?"

Laurel looked over the small image – it seemed to portray Blake and his second-in-command meeting with someone…

"That's Jansen Loss." She gasped.

"Yes, it is." Oliver said. "We've got our lead. Time to use it."

 ** _*Arrow*_**

Jansen Loss was _tired_.

He had spent god _knows_ how long in this hospital bed, handcuffed to the rail and sedated the majority of the time as the surgeons worked on his wounds, everything from the arrow in his shoulder, to the massive stab wound in his back.

He was so _sick_ of the incessant _beeping_ of his heart monitor that he was genuinely quite glad when Captain Quentin Lance of the SCPD walked into the room.

He shared a few hushed words with the two cops who guarded the room, and they nodded before they walked away, closing the door behind them.

"Jansen Loss." Quentin muttered. "According to some sources, that's your name. But we haven't got _one_ goddamn record of you existing."

"Quentin Lance." Jansen replied with a cocky grin. "Captain of the SCPD, a man who secretly works with the vigilantes, and a father of two very miserable daughters, and one _very_ dead son."

He laughed as the man in question immediately thrust his fist forward, stopping just short of punching his lights out.

"Now, listen here you son of a bitch." Quentin growled. "The only reason that I'm not throwing you out of that window," He pointed towards the window in question, "Is because McKenna wouldn't want me to. But then again, she's _dead_. Because you killed her…"

"Yes I did." Jansen deadpanned. "If it's any comfort, she's not the only one. The city planners for the mayor's reconstruction projects, the few rich one-percenters who are so _delusional_ they think that they are actually helping, and don't worry, I'm just getting started-"

The Captain promptly punched him in the face at that, and Jansen laughed loudly.

"Now that's not very professional, is it? What _would_ your son think..?"

Quentin let out a slight roar before delivering five more punches, Jansen laughing as bruises began to show on his face. He went to throw another punch, but then he thought better of it, and slumped down onto a nearby chair.

"Come on now, keep going!" Jansen chuckled, some blood spilling from his mouth. "I killed your friend, remember?"

"And she wouldn't let me kill you, if she was here…" Quentin bit back. "I'm a cop. You're gonna _rot_ in prison."

"How… _Boring_." Jansen said sardonically. "No, I think I'd much rather just kill you and escape."

He suddenly rose from his bed, revealing the key he had pinched from Quentin's pocket. The Captain went for his gun, but Jansen was quicker, diving over and using the handcuffs attached to his left hand to bludgeon Quentin over the head with. Dazed, the Captain couldn't do much as Jansen calmly grabbed his gun from his holster, and pulled him into a headlock as the two cops burst into the room.

"Now, now." Jansen said condescendingly, aiming the pistol at Quentin's head. "Be careful what you do next, friends…"

The cops were hesitant, Jansen trying to focus despite his still-recovering injuries, Quentin trying to work out what to do…

And then a phone rang.

Quentin sighed. "I think that's mine."

"Awkward…" Jansen quipped, reaching into his pocket with the hand that held the gun, pulling out the phone, before placing it onto the floor and stamping his foot down on it, hard.

And then he remembered that his was in a hospital gown with no shoes on, and proceeded to stamp on the phone eight more times before it finally broke.

"Now" He said, placing the gun back next to the Captain's head. "Place your guns on the floor, please."

As soon as they did, he calmly shot them both in the head, before turning the gun back to Quentin, smiling a little at his roars of anger…

And then a small crossbow bolt propelled directly into his hand.

Jansen hissed at the pain, and Quentin used that opportunity to throw a quick punch, then grabbing his gun and running from the room.

Jansen looked over to see _him_.

The man who stabbed him in the back.

Literally.

"For fuck's sake." He spat, side-stepping to the right and dodging another crossbow bolt from his silent foe. "I had a _great_ escape going on here before you arrived, you know?"

The mysterious stranger calmly walked forward, not even flinching as Jansen quickly grabbed a chair and smashed it over his head. The man kept walking, pinning Jansen to the wall, with firm hands on his throat.

He leaned close, Jansen almost throwing up at the smell of rot coming from the bandages.

" _You talk… Far too much."_ The mysterious man said, his voice raspy and old, like nails scratching a blackboard.

Jansen started to choke from the pressure on his neck, but regardless, he moved his hand downwards, and pulled out the man's sword from its scabbard, before proceeding to insert it into his face.

He kicked at the man's chest as liquid of both red and dark green began to flow out of his bandaged face, ducking under his arm and dashing out the door.

Jansen stopped quickly as blood began to flow from his wounds, resting on the wall.

And then he heard the most _unpleasant_ sound.

The door creaked open, sounds of liquids and flesh filling Jansen's ears as he looked over to see his adversary calmly removing the sword from his head.

"Stop it!" Jansen screamed suddenly, finally broken by this… _Creature_. "STOP IT!"

But the creature didn't stop.

He – or _it_ – let his sword scrape the wall as he slowly approached Jansen, the man in question so shocked he couldn't even move.

He reached where Jansen had fallen to the ground in shock, and knelt down, placing the sword over his throat.

" _Where is he?"_ That terrible voice asked quietly. _"Where is Merlyn?"_

"He's _dead_!" Jansen spat. "He died in The Undertaking!"

A strange sound came from the creature, and it took Jansen a moment to realize it was a very small laugh.

" _Archfield, then."_ He rasped. _"Where is Archfield?"_

"I don't know-" Jansen started, but then some blood began to flow as the creature moved the blade into the flesh of his throat slightly. "I- all I know is that he's working for my employer, okay?!"

The mysterious man cocked his head to the right slightly, and moved the blade away from Jansen's throat. Jansen almost sighed in relief, before the creature suddenly grabbed his left hand, dragging his hand onto a nearby table and holding it there.

"What is this?!" Jansen said in horror.

" _Payment."_ The creature said, removing the gauntlet on his left arm to reveal his hand…

But a hand without flesh, or scars.

Just bones.

He brought the blade down on Jansen's hand, the man screaming as his hand was removed from his wrist. The mysterious creature touched the newly removed hand, and a strange red energy went from his skeletal hand to it, before enveloping it entirely.

When the mist cleared, the hand was gone, and the _thing_ had a hand with flesh and strange tattoos once more.

Seemingly satisfied, the mysterious man placed the gauntlet back on his hand, and walked away without a word.

Jansen Loss screamed, staring down at the bloody stump that his left hand now was, as he heard the sound of people running towards him.

 **A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, it's been far too long since I've update this fic.**

 **Thanks to everyone for the reviews, Especially JDBentz and Devon Goes To Heavan. I'm so unbelievably happy that this fic has been so enjoyable for people to read, and I hope this chapter didn't dissapoint.**

 **Please leave a review letting me know what you think, and I'll be back soon with another chapter!**


	9. Memories and Mourning

**A/N: So, it's been too long since I've updated this story. So, this chapter is me getting back into writing this fic. The thing is, I have a somewhat story arc for this series, and honestly, I still want to complete it. So, this chapter is probably going to be primarily worldbuilding, along with some Merlyn-finding. Additionally, this hasn't been proof-checked to a ridiculous amount as per my usual, so my apologies for that:P**

 _Memories and Mourning_

An arrow flew through the air, and landed at the ground next to the two doors of the three-story building.

For a second it merely beeped, and then it promptly exploded.

The guards ran over and pulled out their weapons, but Dinah Laurel Lance released out a Canary Cry that threw them into the nearest wall.

Oliver Queen, known in this outfit as the Green Arrow, forcibly kicked whatever was left of the doors, and moved inwards. The Black Canary followed.

Gunfire could be heard, along with the sounds of men crying out in pain, and the sounds of people being punched in the face. A large-looking man flew through a window onto the street's road, moaning in pain for a moment, before sighing and falling unconscious.

Two more men flew out of the same window, seemingly thrown out by the vigilantes, and another Canary Cry could be heard – and seen, given the shaking ground and quickly collapsing walls – which seemed to finish the fight, given the sudden silence.

The wooden stairs almost gave out as Oliver and Laurel ascended them (thanks to the Canary Cries), and a guy with a machine gun tried to ambush them on the second floor, but Oliver simply grabbed the man by the shoulder, pulled the gun away with his other hand, and threw the goon down the stairs. Oliver smirked ever-so-slightly when he saw the man tumble down the steps, landing at the floor painfully.

The Green Arrow moved past the stairs and through a longue room, where he had to fire two arrows into the chests of men about to run at him. A third tried to hit him with a baseball bat, but the Black Canary used her foot to trip the man over, and she knocked him out with precise hits to the head and neck.

They found a different set of stairs after Oliver kicked down another door, this one so weak it splintered on contact with his foot, and they both quickly ascended up the stairs.

Oliver and Laurel found themselves entering an office, and a man in a wardrobe tried to jump Oliver, but he simply side-stepped, which cause the goon to accidently run directly out of the window, and down three stories onto the cold road.

"Idiot." Oliver muttered, and Laurel smiled slightly as they moved to the large desk. After several minutes of pulling open drawers, Laurel said something.

"Here!" She said, motioning to a file she held in her hand.

Oliver moved over to her, to see a large file Laurel had opened. On the page they were looking at, was another picture of Jansen Loss, and Blake Archfield.

"Got 'em!" Laurel said, pointing to text below the image. "It says 'two persons of interest to Mr. Darhk, pictured making some kind of deal. In brackets, it says 'more surveillance needed'. Then it says, 'picture taken at the Starling City docks, June 3rd, 2014'!"

"Got 'em." Oliver said in satisfaction. "Since Jansen's still in surgery, this is the best lead we've got."

Both vigilantes suddenly heard the sound of large vehicles screeching to a halt outside.

"Well, reinforcements are here." Laurel noted.

"Well then we better go say hi." Oliver retorted, and the two shared a small smile, before they went to work.

 _ ***Arrow***_

He stared at his recently healed hand, nodding at it in satisfaction. It was an… Adequate heal.

He was seeking the man known as 'Blake Archfield' but even with his… Abilities, he was only as close as the vigilantes he was following were. They would lead him to the Archfield man, he would attain information, and locate the pretender, Malcom Merlyn.

Even in the years long past, the League of Assassins had kept their distance from his former group, but they had always kept respect for each other, they always had. But this _Merlyn_ , on the other hand… He had no respect for them. From what he could tell, this Merlyn hadn't even _heard_ of him.

How disappointing…

But Merlyn still had followers. Foolish fanatics that obeyed him, that filled the ranks of his army. If he had to choose, he would quickly support the female 'Al Ghul'. She had the birthright, and the smarts and senses to become the true Ra's Al Ghul.

But that was in the future, near as it might be. He needed to focus on the _now_.

He turned his gaze back to his strange hand, staring once more at the swirling, black tattoo. It usually formed to whatever the magical energies wanted him to do next, but tonight it was empty. Sometimes, he questioned his purpose.

Had it been the leader they followed, or the magic? He honestly couldn't remember.

But then again, it had been millennia since they had _rules_ , or _meaning_ …

Well, that wasn't fair. He had a purpose, of a sort.

So, he picked up his blade from where it was embedded in the floor, and jumped from the building he stood on, into the darkness.

 _ ***Arrow***_

Sara Lance stood by a gravestone, which was shadowed by a large tree that practically hid it from view. It was in a very quiet corner of the graveyard, far away from the streets of Star City.

"Hey, Jeremy." Sara said, smiling sadly down at the stone. "I'm back, back from the dead… _Again_ …"

She sighed sadly, kneeling down onto her knees and placing a hand on the gravestone.

"But you're not." She said, tears already starting to fall down her face. "You're still in the ground. My little brother…"

The tears were fully fledged now, and Sara made no effort to wipe them away.

"I miss you." She cried. "I miss your silly little smile, the way you played that old second-hand guitar, the way you smiled when Ollie gave you a brand-new one, _everything_. Laurel's here, I'm back from the dead _twice_ , Dad is past most of his problems, so _why_ … Why can't you be back _too_?"

She sighed again.

"Yeah." She said sadly. "Because you're dead, and if you came… Came back, you wouldn't be the same brother I grew up with, huh? But I miss you, little bro. So damn much…"

She stood up, wiping away her tears as she did so. Suddenly, her phone buzzed, and she answered it quickly.

"Yeah, Ollie?" She said, listening closely to his response. "Okay, I'll be there soon."

Sara took one last glance at the grave, and remembered even more.

 _Birthdays, parties, getting in trouble at school…_

 _And that_ damn _smile…_

She placed a finger on the gravestone, and held it there for a moment, before walking away.

 _ ***Arrow***_

" _How did this heathen get in here?!" The man in the golden colours roared, pointing an accusatory finger at another man._

" _I do not know, my lord." The knight responded, bowing his head respectfully. "All I know is what I saw. Red colours, the colours of_ Satan _himself!"_

 _The man in the golden colours nodded._

" _Very well." He said. "This… Demon, shall be killed on the morrow. Take him away, and put him in chains!"_

 _Two well-armoured (and armed) men grabbed him by the shoulders once more, but before they moved him, he spoke._

" _I… Think… Not."_

 _The two men went to respond, but had no time to when he pulled out a small blade and sliced their necks before they could even move._

" _KILL THIS HEATHEN!" The man in the gold roared, and the five knights unsheathed their blades, moving in quickly._

 _He danced past one blade, slicing at the wrist, and the first knight let out a cry of pain that was quickly silenced with a knife lodged into the neck. He grabbed the sword out of the dead man's hand, and readied himself for battle._

 _The second and third knights went for him next, one going for an above-head strike, and the other going for his knees. He simply threw his blade at the one going for his head, and jumped above the blade that went for his legs, landing tight next to the man who had now fallen from his attempted attack._

 _He pulled off the man's helmet, and hit his head with it hard enough that he stayed down. He grabbed that man's sword, and casually sliced at his neck as he walked past._

 _The third knight was ready to launch another attack, or so he thought. The knight went for a stab, but he simply side-stepped the attack, and sliced the knight's hand off. He screamed, bleeding profusely as he fell to the ground._

 _The fourth knight had a battleaxe, so he simply raised his unclothed and unarmoured right hand, and it started to glow as he pointed his index finger at the man. Strange red energy came from the corpses around him, and it circled around his hand…_

 _Before suddenly launching forwards, and decapitating the fourth knight._

 _The final knight dropped his weapon in terror, and he calmly moved his hand in a swiping motion, causing the knight to be thrown at the temple wall so hard he practically splattered onto it._

 _The man in the gold screamed in terror, desperately reaching someplace nearby for something, and then that something was revealed as a crossbow that the man in the gold pointed at him._

 _The bolt flew directly into his eye, but he just left it there as he walked, back-handing the man with his left hand when he got close enough, and calmly pushing his head onto the ground._

 _With one slash, the man's head was removed from his body, and his work was done._

 _Suddenly, he heard the sounds of clapping, and he looked over to see his master._

" _Good work, my son." He said slowly, relying quite visibly on his ancient-looking wooden cane as he moved closer. He had the oldest-looking face in the world, and one eye was shut tight, with a scar over it that went down to his cheek._

" _You have… Succeeded." The old man said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He moved that hand down to his unclothed hand, and held it in his._

 _The pain as red energy moved from the old mentor to his somewhat younger apprentice could be described as nothing below extreme, but as he looked down to see that black swirling circle, he knew he could take the eternal pain._

 _The old man patted him on the shoulder, a proud smile on his old face._

" _You are one of use now, son. You are a Marked One."_

 **A/N: I'm sorry this is hilariously short, but I figured it was time to return to this project. The next chapter, however, should hopefully not take months for me to bother to write it:)**


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